Alternate World
by FusseKat
Summary: NEW ENTRY #15 - BIRTHDAY BOY - just realized it's almost Goren's B-day. Fluff and nonsense with Bobby Goren & OC, Blake Jamison. Each chapter is unique view into this pairing, please consider leaving reviews for each. THANKS!
1. The Perfect Day Off

DISCLAIMER: Dick Wolf, NBCUni and probably several other have rightful claim to most of these characters - not I. Detective Blake Jamison is however, an original character of mine. This disclaimer applies to any and all future chapters in the series…

* * *

A/N – These are all reposted short fics grouped into one place. This all started with the first story here, something of a one shot, until I got all these ideas for scenes to put these two characters in, but not structured enough to write as a genuine multi-chapter story. The stories were originally posted as I wrote them, really with no thought as to how they might relate or build on another. Now, I've posted them in some sort of order, to hopefully give a sense of a growing relationship.

Please consider leaving comment or feedback for each 'chapter' as each is its own story. As always though, I thank you for reading, feedback or no.

* * *

Perfect Day Off

It slowly dawned on her that she was awake. She stretched as she drew and held a deep breath, slowly letting the air out as she relaxed her stretch. Her hand grazed his back and she smiled. This was a recent development and a change in their relationship that she was enjoying immensely. She didn't open up to many people and invited very few into her life… and even fewer into her bed.

She pushed herself up and leaned over to kiss his bare shoulder. "Hey sleepyhead, are you awake yet?"

A noncommittal grunt was her only answer.

* * *

He felt her smile against his shoulder. As he rolled over onto his back, he opened his eyes to see her bright and smiling face. He reached up and tucked several loose strands of hair behind her ear as he said, "Good morning you."

"Good morning you." She repeated as she leaned down to kiss him, stopping just short of his lips lingering for a moment. Changing her course, she planted a kiss on the tip of his cute nose and continued to place several light kisses on his forehead. As she pulled away, he looked up at her quizzically.

She grinned down at him as she continued to back away, "If you think I'm getting anywhere near that porcupine beard of yours…"

He reached out to grab her as she scooted back off the bed, eluding his grasp. "I'm going to take a shower." She turned her back on him and started to walk away. As she reached the door way she turned to see him still propped up on one elbow watching her.

"You're more than welcome to join me. Solely as an effort to conservation energy. This would save both electricity and water."

"Conservation of our energy resources is very …. important." He agreed as he flipped the blanket off him and swung his long legs out of the bed. He thought, _Who could have guessed that 'going green' would have such immediate and amazing fringe benefits?_

* * *

Speaking of fringe benefits, one of the best ones would have to be that they worked the same shift and rotations, which meant that today they were both off from work. They walked down the street to grab coffee and something to eat at the Starbucks on the corner.

As he placed their coffee orders, she looked at the pastries and baked goods in the case and her eyes lit on her favorite. As she saw his profile from the corner of her eye, she added, "… and I'll have a plain bagel, lightly toasted."

He looked down at her and grinned, "It's all right, you know. You can order a blueberry scone if you want one."

"What are you talking about. I want a bagel with some cream cheese. I'm a native New Yorker. I ask you, what's more New York than a bagel and cream cheese?"

"Uh huh, r-i-i-ght." He remembered the many days he'd walk past her desk to see a partially empty cup of coffee and a half-eaten blueberry scone lying there.

"What do you want to do today?" she asked, quickly changing the subject.

* * *

They decided to join the thousands of other New Yorkers heading to Central Park, today being one of the first warm and sunny days so far this spring. They went back up to the apartment to pick up a blanket for ground cover and a couple of books – a recent bestseller for her and a forensic psychology tome for him.

As she saw his choice of reading material he asked, "What? There's a lot to do."

"Uh huh, r-i-i-ght." She shook her head and rolled her eyes at him as she pushed him out the door.

* * *

Once in the park they walked around for sometime looking for the perfect spot. Unfortunately, others who had gotten an earlier start to their day had already staked out all the perfect spots. They settled on a great second choice, near a small tree that would provide a little shade as the day wore on.

Still being in the early days of their new relationship, left them both with plenty of new stories to hear about the other, and so they told each other stories of other sunny spring days. Surprisingly their stories were similar in that there were many good times to share, some embarrassing and some hilariously funny. Just as surprisingly, they were completely opposite. Her stories all centered on her family, she had very few that involved her friends. His stories centered on times with his friends, he had very few that involved his family.

As the afternoon wore on, their hunger returned. Being the man, the hunter, he went off in search of food. When he returned he came bearing sandwiches – pastrami for him, turkey for her – apples and a couple of sodas. As they were finishing up, they heard the sound of an ice cream vendor and she ran over to get them both a drumstick cone.

He rolled up both of their jackets to put behind his back as he leaned up against the rough bark of their little tree. He motioned for her to join him. As she settled against his chest, his arms came around her and held her tightly. Looking up at him, she grinned and pushed herself up lightly tracing his jaw line with her fingertips. Looking into his brown eyes she smiled again as she softly said, "I'm so glad you decided to shave." She bent lower to claim her prize, his soft full lips.

She tried reading her book, but was distracted by the gentle massage he was giving the back of her head. She'd wager he didn't even realize he was doing it, but she didn't care. The gentle pull of her hair as his fingers massaged her scalp and entangled within the strands was lulling her to sleep. She stopped fighting it and allowed herself to doze.

She awoke sometime later and felt a familiar gummy wetness on her cheek. As she raised a hand to wipe her lips, she stiffened in his arms, which brought him to instant alertness.

"What?" He asked, glancing around.

She closed her eyes tightly. _OHMIGOD! _She was horrified. _Maybe she could jump quickly to her feet, sprint away, transfer out of the department and move to New Jersey before he could catch her._

"What's wrong?" He asked again. He hooked his index finger under her chin to draw her head back so he could see her face. He was greeted by a grimace and tightly shut eyes.

"What?" he asked softly.

"I… I can't believe this happened. I'm so embarrassed. I want to die."

"Embarrassed? What about? What's so bad you'd want to die?" Okay he had no idea what was going on.

"I drooled in my sleep. All over your shirt." She whined.

Relaxing finally, he laughed and bent down to kiss her. "You had me scared that something serious had happened."

"And you don't think drooling is a serious problem? Geez…"

Shaking his head, he said, "It's not many NYPD detectives that have women drooling over them. I can think of a lot worse things to put up with."

"But… oh, geez…"

"Fine, I'll burn my shirt later." He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head as she settled back against his chest.

"Okay, good. I'll miss the black tee shirt, but it'll make a heck of a hot bonfire."

* * *

As the sun started to go down, they joined the thousands of other New Yorkers packing up their belonging and heading out of Central Park. They stopped on their way back to her apartment and picked up some take out from the Chinese place on the corner, to go along with the movie they hadn't gotten around to watching last night.

They spread their feast out over the coffee table and sat on the floor to eat while they watched the movie. After they had eaten their fill, she cleaned up their leftovers and threw the trash out. Once finished, she slid onto the sofa and laid out on her stomach and draped an arm over his shoulder and began rubbing his chest as he leaned against the side of the sofa.

"What'd I miss?" she asked.

He paused the DVD and filled her in, his long and detail explanation taking longer than the five minutes of movie she'd missed. Next time she'd have to remember not to ask.

When the movie ended, he turned to her and asked, "Are you tired?" Seeing her sleepy eyes, he smiled and answered his own question. "Yes, you are. I should go." He leaned forward to start to stand.

She reached out a hand to stop him, and gently pulled him back. "Don't go, we can ride into work together tomorrow."

"I don't think that's such a good idea." He said as he shook his head.

"Which part? The staying or the riding into work together?" She asked.

"The riding into work together part." He said as he turned and raised himself to his knees. His fingers lightly caressing her earlobe.

"Oh well, I guess you're right about that." She said, before turning into the hand caressing her earlobe and gently kissing his palm.

"Plus, I can't go into work in the same suit and shirt that I wore the other day."

"No one notices men's suits or shirts. They all look alike."

"Not to a roomful of detectives."

"Oh, you may have a point there, detective. Well, if you really have to go…."

Leaning over he traced her jaw line before nipping at her ear. "I didn't say I had to go…"

* * *

She rode the subway to work the next morning and as she was walking up to the entrance to 1PP ran into one of the few other female detectives in Major Case.

They smiled as they fell into step with each other. "How was your day off?"

"It was fine. I spent a quiet day puttering around the house. How was yours?"

"Mine? Mine was perfect."

The female detective turned to look at her and threatened, "One of these days I'm going to get you to tell all about whomever it is who's been responsible for all these perfect days off you've been having lately."

Laughing she replied, "One of these days, I may just tell you."

Captain Ross was standing outside the elevator and greeted the two women as the doors slid open. "Eames, my office. And bring your partner." As an after thought he added, "Good morning Jamison."

"Good morning Captain." The two said simultaneously.

After he walked away, Eames looked over to see if Bobby was even in yet, as she said, "Great. I love it when the Captain's waiting at the elevator for me. It's such a warm, welcoming feeling."

Bobby wasn't at his desk, but his jacket was, so she knew he was in the building. He walked up from behind them and said, "Morning Eames, Morning Jamison." He continued passed them not breaking stride, his nose still buried in the report he was reading.

"Hey, Ross wants to see us in his office. Now."

"Yeah, I heard him, he must have been waiting for you at the elevator. I think everyone of the eleventh floor heard him."

"Ya think?" She asked sarcastically

He picked up his jacket from his chair and put it on. "You ready?" He asked.

"Yeah, I had my Wheaties this morning. Let's go get this over, it's only going to get worse the longer we leave him waiting. And by the way, what did you do this time?"

He grinned, "Nothing. It's not on me this time."

"Well then , what did I do?" She wondered aloud as she followed her partner into the Captain's office.

Jamison wished them 'Good Luck' and continued over to her desk, her partner Ritchie already at his, on the phone. She smiled as she saw the cup of coffee and blueberry scone sitting in the center of her desk.

* * *

More to come...


	2. Busted

The story continues…

* * *

Busted

She awoke to the feel of sandpaper scraping a layer of skin off her cheek and brushed at it before lazily opening an eye to peer up at the perpetrator responsible for ruining her picture perfect dream. Chantilly stood on her chest peering down at her, the long-haired calico vixen blinked her large green eyes begging for breakfast – _me..rwow._

She smiled and reached a hand up to scratch behind her ear. Her purring response caused her little kitten body to vibrate.

Attempting to sit up in bed, she discovered she was effectively pinned in her current position by a large arm wrapped tightly around her middle. Glancing to the side, she grinned at the figure that lay next to her. His bare chest, his curly hair rumbled, a relaxed, still and peaceful aura surrounding him, were all at extreme odds with the public posture he donned at work.

She lightly ran her hand down his arm and slowly and gently raised his arm to free herself from its protective grasp. When she finally broke free, he immediately scooted his body closer and buried his face into the crook of her neck.

"Are you trying to get away from me, Jamison?" His voice was thick with sleep, but it still held a hint of humor, even at this early hour.

"Well I was trying to get up to feed the cat, but if you'd rather her come back in here and climb all over you and get in your face, to have you do it…" His allergic reaction to cats had been mild so far, but he wasn't anxious to test the limits.

His only response was to murmur something completely unintelligible and push her away.

Snickering at his action, she leaned down and slid her feet into slippers as Chantilly wove around her legs. Murmuring softly she said, "And they say cats are fickle." She picked up the cat and turned to look back at him. If the light snores she heard were any indication, he had already fallen back to sleep. She couldn't keep from smiling at the way he had snuggled down under the comforter.

If anyone had told her she would find herself in this situation - a relationship – with a fellow detective in her squad, let alone this particular detective, she would have laughed at the prospect. They'd been little more than nodding acquaintances until a small group of detectives had taken her out for drinks and dinner on her birthday. Alex had dragged him along. The next morning, she'd found a festively wrapped gift on her desk with an attached note, _Sorry this is late – I didn't know it was your birthday_. It was a lacquered box of Asian design with an intricate carving adorning its lid. Stunningly impressive and yet striking in its simplicity.

Padding along the hardwood floors, she entered the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door, hearing a _pop!_ as the suction released. She let the kitten slide from her grasp and reached in for both a small bag of coffee beans and a can of cat food. She popped open the lid on the can of food, dumped it into a bowl, broke it up a little, and placed it onto the floor for the eagerly awaiting Chantilly. She tucked in as if she hadn't eaten in days.

Turning on the tap and reaching for the coffee carafe, she was surprised by the sudden knock on her apartment door. _Who would be here at seven in the morning?_

She glanced down at her pajamas to assure herself that she was dressed appropriately enough for this hour as she walked across the kitchen to the door.

She peered through the peephole on the front door and her heart stopped as she saw Alex Eames standing outside the door. With her blond-streaked hair pulled back, and jeans and leather jacket ensemble she looked ready for anything, as she clutched a steaming cup of Starbucks in her hands.

When the initial shock of her friend's arrival passed, she immediately began to worry about the man sleeping in the other room.

So far, they had managed to keep the detectives of Major Case unaware of their relationship. Now it seemed, Alex Eames – her friend, his partner - was about to discover their secret.

Alex knocked again; slightly louder this time.

"Come on, open up! I know you're in there! You didn't forget about today, did you? You, me, and the big sale at Bloomie's!"

_Oh crap. _She had completely forgotten about their plans to go shopping. She took a deep breath, a calming breath and pulled open the door.

"Hey, Alex. Morning."

"Girl, why aren't you dressed? My God, did you forget we had plans, again?"

She smiled at her guiltily. "Sorry. Come in for a second while I throw some clothes on. I've been really distracted lately. I did forget, but it won't take me long to get ready."

"Distracted, hmm?" Alex fixed on the pair of men's loafers lying near the coffee table and the suit jacket that was lying across the back of the sofa. A knowing grin spread slowly across her face.

"Well, I can see what one of those distractions was. Did we have a gentlemen caller late last night?"

She felt her face flush a deep crimson.

"Oh please, we're both way over twenty-one. So spill it. Information and details, please!" The woman's eyes gleamed with curiosity. "Who is it? Can I meet him?"

Her thoughts reeled as she tried to envision the possible fallout of Alex finding out this way. Resigned to the inevitable, but not feeling up to explaining, she walked over to the sofa, reached into the jacket pocket, and pulled out a small object. She tossed the object across the room to Alex.

Alex caught it easily with her left hand and held it out in front of her to examine it more carefully. She knew its size and shape immediately – she had one of her own – it was a badge. Flipping it around she saw and recognized the badge number.

"Oh my god. Oh my GOD! OH MY GOD!"

"Shhh, really Alex, I wanted to tell you. In a way, I've wanted to tell everyone, but…"

"Blake Jamison! How long has this been going on?"

"About two months," _And 4 days, 11 hours, and 17 minutes. _"Since my birthday."

She could see the wheels spinning, Alex was running through everything she could remember from the last two months to see if she'd missed any clues along the way.

* * *

Blake took the opportunity to duck down the hall and into her bedroom, shutting the door behind her. She crossed the room quickly to the side of the bed nearest Goren and knelt onto the floor beside him.

"Goren," she spoke to the sleeping form. "Goren, wake up." Her only response was a slight groggy moan.

"Goren," she tried again, "Alex is here."

That did it.

One eye opened, and seeing the serious look on her face, he realized she wasn't joking. "What?" As he opened the other eye, he replied, in a voice that was still sleep roughened.

She smirked at him. "Alex is here. Just thought I should warn you before you provide her with the answer to the age old question of – boxers or briefs. Or commando."

"Something tells me Alex has never wondered that."

"Well then I have something to tell you. You'd be surprised at some of the things Alex has wondered about."

He looked at her as he tried to make sense of what she just said. He couldn't and thought it might be better for his peace of mind not to pursue that line of questioning.

She frowned in frustration at him before rising to stand to go join Alex in the other room. _He's not taking this very seriously._

He stood as well, pulling her into a gentle kiss. She still looked slightly upset and she questioned him in a worried tone. "It's just, what's everyone going to say once word gets around about this, about us? It's been such a luxury not to see 'those looks'. I really hate this. This is why I've never gotten involved..."

"Jamison, look at me." He said this in a firm tone, all teasing gone from his voice, replaced instead by complete seriousness. "Do I look worried? We'll take everything in stride. Ok? It will be fine."

She looked at him for a long moment before giving him a slightly stubborn nod of her head.

He looked at her closely as he traced the outline of her lips with his index finger before leaning down to kiss her again, this time a little deeper, a kiss meant to reassure. "I'm going to grab a shower."

Again she nodded as she watched him walk away – wearing neither boxers nor briefs. She changed quickly, throwing on a pair of jeans and a brown sweater, and emerged from the bedroom to find Alex sitting at the counter in the kitchen.

"I still can't believe I didn't know about this!" Alex sighed dramatically. "All this time and I never had a clue. How is that even possible? I thought I knew his every mood. I thought I knew his schedule. I should have been able to pick up on this!"

"Well, we've both had a lot of practice at keeping people at a distance and we're both good at covering our tracks." Looking up at Alex she added, "And you've had a few distractions of your own."

Alex stared at her for a long moment before speaking. "I suppose that's true. But still…" Changing tracks, she asked, "So, tell me something… how … I mean … how is the sex?"

"ALEX!"

"Oh come on, don't be such a prude. I need details! I told you all about Rick from Homicide."

She opened her mouth, closed it and then whispering fiercely as she looked down the hall to see the still closed bedroom door, "Goren's your partner! Rick was not my partner and I didn't have to work with or see Rick everyday whereas you…"

"You call him Goren? What's he do, call you Jamison?"

"Uh, yeah. I know it's a little…"

"Weird? Impersonal?"

"Well… no. It's not like that, really. It's … it's just… it fits." She shrugged.

Alex shook her head, "A rose by any other name…"

"Better than you could possibly imagine."

"What?"

"The sex. Better than you could possibly imagine." She blushed furiously and surprised herself by actually saying it aloud.

"I have a pretty good imagination." An extremely loud squeal escaped as Alex did her best to stifle the noise with her hand.

"So, have you done it in any of the interview rooms yet?" She asked once she could breathe again.

"Absolutely not! And you will not tease Goren or me about any of this. Ever. Do we understand each other?"

Looking chastised, Alex nodded and then grinned as she crossed her heart. "I won't. Just tell me this. Does anyone else know?"

She grimaced as she nodded her head, "Yeah, Ross knows."

"What? How'd he find out?"

"I… I had to tell him."

"Why?"

"Remember when you were out sick for a few days a couple of weeks ago… and Ritchie was on vacation? Ross was going to send the two of us out on a case together… I … I had to tell him. I know the chances of it being a problem in the short term like that would have been was exceedingly small, but…" she shrugged as her explanation trailed away.

Does…" She pointed down the hallway to the bedroom. "does he know that Ross knows?"

Shaking her head, she admitted, "I wasn't sure how he'd take that news, so I haven't told him yet. Especially seeing that it was Ross." Everyone in the squad knew there was an uneasy truce between Goren and Ross.

* * *

Ten minutes later, the door to the bedroom opened and Goren stepped out into the hallway. He'd showered, shaved, and was ready for what awaited him in the kitchen.

He rounded the corner into the kitchen, to see Jamison and Eames talking across the kitchen counter.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't my partner. Out and about, with a demented Cheshire cat grin on his face."

"Yes well, unfortunately that is the only door out of the apartment." He pointed over his shoulder to the door Alex entered a little while ago.

Alex opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone.

He pulled it out of his pocket and flipped it open without reading the caller I.D.

"Goren."

"Goren?" A familiar sounding voice questioned from the other end of the line.

"That's what I just said isn't it?" _You called me, you should expect me to be the one to answer._

"Excuse me Detective Goren, but why are you answering Jamison's cell phone at 7:45 in the morning?"

Realization slowly dawned on him. It was Jamison's partner, Detective Ritchie.

_Shit._

In the background, he could hear scrambling and then Logan's voice near the phone. "Goren answered Jamison's phone? No way! Ha ha, It never ceases to amaze me!" There was more scrambling and a few words of argument from Ritchie, when suddenly Logan was on the line.

"Goren, you are so busted." Logan boasted.

"Yeah, I got that." he grunted.

"Oh my god, wait until Alex finds out! She is going to FLIP!"

There was laughing and then the line went dead.

Goren flipped the phone shut before tossing it to Jamison. "So, I guess this is your phone..." A sheepish grin appeared on his lips. "I think the entire squad knows, with the possible exception of Ross, or will in about two minutes."

The two women exchanged a look.

"What?"

"Ah..hmm, Ross already knows. I … I had to tell him a couple of weeks ago, he… he was going to team us up while Alex was out sick."

She stopped as she took in his appearance, "Are you going into work today?"

Goren grabbed his badge from the counter where Alex had set it down and prepared to leave.

"I thought I would go through the witness statements again on the Douglas case. I should get going and let you two get to wherever you were going today. I'll see you both later." At this, he leaned down and placed a kiss firmly on Jamison's lips. "I should be done early, I'll… I'll call you and we'll get dinner somewhere." He leaned down again softly kissed her again, before softly saying, "I love you."

Distracted, she muttered as she nodded, "Okay. That sounds good."

With that, he grinned down at her and said, "See ya later, Eames." He turned and left.

"Later, Bobby." Alex spun back around to face Blake. "All right, the stores open in an hour. We need to get a move on if we're gonna get any of the good stuff."

"Hmmmm..."

"What? Are you ok?"

Without warning, she looked up to fix Alex with a questioning look. "What did he just say?"

"Well," Alex started hesitantly, "He said he'd be finished early and he'd call you. Then something about getting dinner and then he said he loved you and left... Oh My God! Was that the first time he…"

She nodded as she stood rooted in place, in total shock.

"Don't you have something you need to tell him?" Alex asked. "If I were you, I'd run after him before he gets too far away." Blake sprinted to the door and yanked it open. She was gone.

"Oh new love, isn't it sweet, Chantilly?" Alex leaned down, scooping the cat up off the floor and carried her to the doorway, dancing with her down the hall. She meowed in protest and scrambled away.

"The bigger they are, the harder and farther they fall…"

* * *

More to come…


	3. The Dark

The story continues...

* * *

The Dark

Bobby Goren dragged himself up remembered steps. The heat outside was stifling, and he knew that his apartment would resemble a sauna room more than the peaceful and welcoming retreat he'd made it. As he climbed the stair, he wondered why it was so dark. _Another bout of high summer roaming black outs? _One of his neighbors stood in the doorway of his apartment and told Bobby that it was a ten-block blackout. The entire northwestern grid, which included the very spot they were standing. It was still early, only a little after 7:00 in the evening, and the only relief from the heat would be an open window next to his bed.

_Nice. Sleep!_

Fumbling for his keys, he finally slid the right one in on the third try. His vision had doubled for a moment; lack of sleep could be hazardous sometimes. He wasn't exactly sure why he has lost so much sleep lately, Eames and he had a very light case load at the moment. Jamison had been out of town all week visiting family, so there'd been no late nights. Now, with the weekend looming ahead he had a couple days off, which he'd planned on using to reclaim some of what had been lost. Maybe. The heat wouldn't help, nor would the blackout. _Adapt Bobby, adapt._

When he pushed open the door he was disappointed to discover he'd been right about the sauna-like temperature in the closed up apartment. Stripping off his rumpled jacket, he tossed it over a chair he knew to be fifteen paces from the door, and four paces from where he stood. He wandered over to the windows that had little light coming in through the blinds. _A step to the left, there's the table. _Pulling open the blinds, he strained to see the distant lights of downtown.

Normally, the darkness didn't bother him, but combined with the heat, Bobby felt claustrophobic, as if the walls were closing in.

_"If you two don't listen to me, I'm going to lock you up in the basement and throw away the key."_

He moved in the direction of the kitchen. _The kitchen is twenty paces from the door, and the counter is twelve paces from here. The barstool was pulled out ten inches from the counter._

For most people, blackouts meant stumbling around in the dark looking for candles and flashlights. For Bobby, it was an exercise in memory. Instead of straining to see in the dark, he closed his eyes and concentrated on maneuvering around obstacles and furniture. The cupboard holding glasses is two doors left of the sink. Opening the cabinet, he took out the first glass his hand touched. The water wasn't cold, but it was cool enough to soothe his parched throat.

There was a knock at the door; Bobby nearly jumped out of his skin. The increasing darkness pressed in on him, making him more uncomfortable. Quietly, he placed the glass on the counter. He sincerely hoped it wasn't Mrs. Mankin from next door. She would talk his ear off when all he wanted was sleep. At the same time, he'd welcome the right company. As he shuffled to the door, he heard someone whisper sotto voce; "It's not Mrs. Mankin."

_Jamison. She was definitely the right company._

Smiling, he opened the door. The faintest outline of a smile could be seen in the near-dark. "Thought you were visiting your sister," he said, feeling intense relief she was standing outside his apartment and not at her sister's.

"I was and it was great. I have enough cute and adorable niece and nephew stories to bore you out of your mind for a month. But, I thought two days devoted to you, would be kind of great too. So I packed up the car early and came home. Little did I realize that not only would I be walking into a tropical hot zone, but a dead zone too. But before I did, I stopped and …" She rattled the contents of a plastic grocery bag, "can I offer you a cold beverage?"

He grabbed her by the arm, pulled her into the apartment, and slammed the door shut, "Not so loud, do you want to start a riot?"

Laughing, she leaned into him and asked, "So does this mean you're glad to see me?"

"Glad you see you?" he asked incredulously. "You are a Godsend!"

He had both hands on her shoulders and as he leaned down for a kiss, his hands slowly caressed the length of her arms and eased the bag of cold drinks from her. As soon as he'd taken possession of the bag, he pulled back and cried out, "Mine, all mine."

"I hope you mean me… and not the cold drinks I brought." A ghost of a smirk playing about her lips

"Of… of course, I meant you, Jamison." Though it was now too dark for her to fully make out his features, she could hear the smile in his voice.

"Uh huh. Sure you did." She grinned as she nodded. But she reached out and found his hand and intertwined her fingers with his. "I … I don't like this kind of dark. Don't you have a flashlight, or those candles I gave you? Or even better, both."

"I do have both. Hang on just a sec, though. I'm going to direct you to the sofa and then I'll get the candles and flashlight." He rattled off the number of paces from the door. "The bathroom is thirty paces to the left." He pulled out two of the still cold bottles of water, and opened one to take several large gulps to help cool him from the inside out. "Oh so much better." He opened the other bottle and handed it to her.

"Don't tell me you've memorized the layout of your apartment so completely that you can rattle off the number of paces between any two objects?" She really wanted to be able to see his face. Chances are, the expression would have been a cross between amused by and apprehensive at getting caught being so compulsive.

"Not really. I just remember where I left everything this morning."

"Uh huh... Goren you _are _a mystery. But not that much of one, I can tell when you're evading. You're not the only insightful detective in Major Case." She reached out with her hand in his direction. There was still enough light left outside to show her his silhouette, but she couldn't make out his features or his expressions. "Sit down. Even though I can't see you, you're making me nervous." The couch shifted slightly under his weight.

"You want to know what else I brought with me? I stopped by your favorite deli on the way over and Mr. Brodsky sent me home with a pastrami sandwich and fruit salad for you. Apparently, Sophia saw you walk by yesterday and she didn't think you looked healthy. So, she takes it out on me and orders me to make sure you eat it all. Liev tells me the same thing. So to keep me out of anymore trouble, please... please eat all of it. I'm in fear for my life. I think I heard Sophia mutter something about it it being easier to take care of me 'in the old days with the KGB'… "

Bobby laughed, "Neither Liev nor Sophia were KGB. Soviet immigrants yes, KGB operatives, no. And not Russian Mafia either."

"_You _think. I'm not so sure. Here…just eat. The life you save may not be your own." She handed him half of the sandwich and watched the shadowy image of him eating. _Good._

They sat there for over an hour, the darkness now complete. They lingered over the sandwich and salad. She told him stories of her niece and nephew, of her and her sister. Bobby had lit several candles, and they watched them burn playing games that didn't require a board. She regaled him with all the new 'knock knock' jokes her nephew had told her. They played twenty questions, they guessed song titles from lyrics, anything to keep from acknowledging the dark. That was the one thing neither ever talked about. The dark, the suffocating darkness they'd been able to put behind them, respectively. For the most part.

The lamp next to them suddenly blinked, its light blinding them. The blackout was over. Looking at each other, Bobby smiled. He reached over and turned off the light. Sometimes it was easier in the shadows cast by the flickering candlelight.

* * *

Mrs. Mankin had been beside her open window trying to catch a bit of cool breeze since her air conditioning had shut off because of the blackout.. She hadn't intended to eavesdrop on her neighbor – he was always so nice to her – but everyone had the windows open and sounds traveled, there really had been no way to avoid it. She hadn't been able to make out their words, but she couldn't mistake the tone of their conversation or the sound of their laughter. She was reminded of her and her Matthias. She eased herself up from her chair and traced the outline of the last picture she had of him. _Oh they should be so happy as we were, my Matty..._

* * *

More to come


	4. Sunday

The story continues…

* * *

Sunday

A soft breeze wafts through the apartment, sweet fresh air full of promise. It drifts through each room of the musty apartment with the determination to make everything seem just a little brighter, just a little more rejuvenated.

Blake stands by the open living-room window, her mid-morning coffee gone cold, forgotten in her hands. She takes a deep breath, filling her lungs with the dewy air. She can almost taste the pollen, and she wonders idly how Goren's allergies are going to fair in the coming days. As if to prove her superiority, she tilts her chin up towards the clear blue sky, and takes in as much air as she can, before letting it go in one long, slow sigh of satisfaction.

She loves this time of year. She loves the effect spring has on people, with its magic; every type of new beginning seemingly within reach, no matter what terrible things might have happened in the past year. Blake can't help feeling cheered by it - who knows what could happen between now and winter. Springtime questions everything, sets everything up for the taking, ready to change and transform. Everything outside is so new and green you can barely look at it without wincing in appreciation, and everything inside is whirling and growing in power, brimming with potential, ready to bloom…

_Almost everything, that is. _She amends herself with a smirk, turning.

She looked at Goren; slumped, crumpled and unconscious, in his armchair. His curly head lolling to one side, his entire body still and quiet except for the gentle rise and fall of his chest with every expelled breath. The book he'd been pretending to read - he'd actually been watching the Mets and Braves baseball game, and if he thought Blake had been unaware of that, he was sadly mistaken - is in danger of slipping from those long graceful fingers.

Blake smiles again and scratching the back of her neck, goes to rescue the book from its dangerous position half-way down Goren's inner thigh. It is a mark of his exhaustion that he doesn't fly awake at this briefest of touches, just frowns and grunts darkly, before his features smooth over in a deeper doze.

_Damn you Goren_. Shaking her head, she sets the book on the coffee table. One of the few Sundays they had both been off duty for, in months… and Goren has to go and fall asleep in his chair like an old man in a retirement home. And on such a beautiful day, full of possibiblities.

The breeze lifts a curl from Goren's forehead, toys with it for a second, before setting it back down the wrong way. Blake smiles and automatically brushes it back into place, before patting the curls flat and watching in vague delight as they spring back to attention when she removes her hand. Just like Goren, the locks are dead set in their ways. Amused by this, she does it again, and again, and each time the soft, graying strands snap back into curls, no matter how hard she presses. _You might want to think about a haircut, Bobby._

"Doesn't help, y'know."

The slurred words rumbling up into her palm surprises Blake almost as much as the sudden tilt of the head, revealing the deep brown eyes now giving her a groggy and irritated glare.

She covers her start with a smirk. "Not if you keep giving up on it."

She kisses her fingertips before slapping them hard against Goren's cheek, flying for the cover of the kitchen, expertly avoiding the cushion she had known would be flung at her head.

"Missed! When was the last time you had to requalify at the shooting range?" She cried.

"Last night" he muttered. Bobby chuckles at his grumbled retort.

"What? I couldn't hear you."

"Never mind."

Blake reappeared carrying two mugs full of fresh coffee. Satisfied that her handiwork in brewing an excellent pot of coffee will appease him and bring him back from the edge of sleepiness and grumpiness, she begs, "Truce."

"You've got diplomatic immunity if that tastes anywhere near as good as it smells."

Bobby rubs at his eyes with the heel of his palms and blinks up as Blake hands him the steaming cup. "Salut." His hands curl around the mug, sniffing greedily at the vapors that rise and twist in the sunlight before taking a huge, noisy slurp.

Blake rolls her eyes in fond irritation as he grins up at her as she goes to sit in the armchair nearest the window. The bright sunshine draws his eye out at the world; even New York rooftops shine under a spring sun, and she shifts in her chair, itching to get out and explore. They could do anything, today, could go anywhere and be anyone they wanted. And no one, not any of the detectives down at 1PP, not even Captain Ross himself, would be any the wiser for being left behind and forgotten about, for just a day. Just one day, just the two of them lost in the wide world. Or, at least, Greater New York City.

A familiar grunt makes her glance around; Goren is stretching his legs out, propping his bare feet on the coffee table and picking up his book again, squinting at it through still sleep-heavy eyes and trying in vain to ignore the score of the game, obviously settling in for a while. Something like disappointment, something like irritation climbs up Blake's throat, urging her to speak.

"You'll fall asleep again."

A flick of a page and a pointed glance upwards. "That's my prerogative, Jamison. If I fall asleep, I fall asleep, don't I? S'my day off," Goren says, arching and rounding his back where he sits, wriggling to get the kinks out of it.

"S'mine, too," Blake mutters to herself, knowing Bobby has gone back to concentrating on his book, and looks out the window once more.

"What? I couldn't hear you." Bobby looked up from his book.

"Never mind."

It seems such a shame to waste a glorious day like this, and Blake shifts, feeling uncomfortable with the idea that it bothers her. Rising she walks to the window to gaze down at the people passing on the street below.

The urge to break out and join them, to run, surges up within her and her muscles brace in expectation of the sudden movement. Preoccupied with her thoughts, she doesn't even notice that she has worked out an escape route if she needed to get out of Goren's third-floor apartment in a hurry… _Window-ledge, drain pipe,- quicker than the outside stair - trash bins, open road_. She wonders idly how long it would take her; she could probably make it within ten-seconds, twenty tops - unless under fire – She knows she always worked better under the gun – so to speak.

She wants to reach out and grab hold of the day by the throat, shake the life out of it and have it as her own. Before every possibility the day had to offer was lost forever. She wants to be out there, chasing the sunshine.

Familiar lips brush across the back of her neck; startled out of her stare, she shivers and turns round. Goren has somehow managed to cross the room without making a sound, and snuck up on her. His arms snake around her as he tosses the book onto the sofa.

"What's up with you, then, eh?"

"Nothing. Just thinking." Blake absently rubs one of the arms wrapped around her waist.

Blake's not quick enough to stop the smile dropping from Bobby's face - the glint of silliness suddenly disappearing from his eyes, which become hard and intent again, searching Blake's face for any sign of upset. An expression of pure emotion flickers across his face, and she can't work out exactly what it is, before it disappears with his next breath. Something warm and wonderful flickers up deep within Blake then, and she smiles and leans back into his embrace.

"Nothing. Actually doesn't matter at all."

Bobby doesn't look convinced, but it doesn't matter because he never does. Blake's smile widens as her eyes narrow. And the warm something or other in the pit of her stomach glows brighter with each passing second as they hold each others' stare.

Eventually, Goren rolls his eyes and shrugs, clearly deciding he has better things to do with his day than this stare down. "Fair enough. Kiss you better, whatever it was."

He leans down and kisses Blake; a quick, tender press of the lips, as warm as the sun streaming in through the window. His fingers brush lightly across her cheek, as light as the breeze, and she leans into the touch without even realizing, completely disarmed, as always.

Goren pulls away and pats her cheek, a small smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. He turns, wandering over to the sofa, stealing the cushions from his chair as he goes.

Blake suddenly finds she cannot take his eyes off him, and she's smiling like a dopey half-wit for no reason at all.

Goren stretches himself out flat on the sofa, all knees and elbows. He thumbs open his book once again, resting it on his chest and squinting down his nose at the text, seemingly determined this time to make progress.

Blake doesn't say anything. She goes and pours another round of coffee. And when she comes back into the living room, she settles down on the sofa, pulling Goren's head on to her lap, already half-asleep and mumbling, and gently plays with his curling graying locks. They watch game highlights and doze all afternoon as the day drifts on outside.

* * *

More to come...


	5. The Little Things

The Story Continues…

* * *

The Little Things

Bobby Goren had he back to the wall, so to speak. He had to decide in the next ten seconds whether he was going to get up out of bed now or finally take a sick day. But he wasn't sick. He thought about how the conversation with Ross would go:

Captain, it's Goren. I'm going to need to take today as a personal day."

"_Why is that, Detective?"_

"Well, to be honest Captain, I just don't want to come in today. I think I need to take a 'mental health' day."

"_If it were anyone but you Goren, I'd take that comment as a joke, but coming from you…"_

"It was meant to be a joke, Captain."

Shaking his head, he mentally scrolled down his to-do list, he decided it was best to just go in late. He called in and left a message for Eames, he didn't feel like going fifteen rounds with her this morning. Turning over, Bobby pulled the covers over his head to block out the brightening day.

Minutes later, it seemed, he heard jangling keys, and his front door close. Instantly awake, Bobby threw back the covers. _Who the hell… it could only be Eames or Jamison._

"Hey Goren, you awake yet." Blake Jamison called out.

Leaning back against the pillows, he forced his heart to calm as a smile came to his lips. He pulled the covers back over his bare legs and torso. "What are you doing here? Don't scare me like that!"

He could hear her approach as she crossed the apartment.

"Sorry." She leaned against the doorway of his bedroom. "You decent?"

"I guess." Glancing over at the clock, he rolled his eyes at the blinking numbers. "What time is it?"

"Around ten. You weren't answering your phone, so I thought I'd stop by. Eames told me you called in sick." She entered the room prepared for anything. "You okay?" Her eyes darted around the room, then to him.

"What?" Bobby fidgeted with the covers, lowering his eyes.

Jamison blushed and smiled. "Who _is_ your decorator? I don't think I've ever really noticed how nice this room is. I mean, it's usually late at night and I'm usually more than a little distracted when you drag me in here, acting all primal caveman."

"My what? My decorator?" He sat upright, gazing around the room with her. The old rosewood night table; an antique chest of drawers he restored himself; the pewter lamps he "borrowed" from his grandfather's basement. Right now, she was looking hungrily at his favorite indulgence: his bed. Before he knew it, Jamison kicked off her shoes and threw her jacket over the Stickley chair he had found at an estate sale.

She leapt onto the bed with a squeal of glee. "Oh. My. _God!_ Bobby. How can you not sleep every night? I never notice how grand this bed is." Grabbing a pillow, she closed her eyes with a deep sigh and snuggled down into the fluffy comforter.

Inexplicably, Bobby felt guilty, rubbing the back of his neck. "I guess I better get dressed," he said quietly.His to-do list flashed again in his mind's eye as he threw back the covers. As he rose, Bobby felt delicate fingers around his wrist, stopping him.

Blake studied his face. She had decided long ago that he loved to work that 'New York Pallor' and was going to look perpetually pale and tired, but his eyes were bright and amused yet cautious. "Get that cute butt of yours back in this bed," Blake purred said as she scooted underneath the covers.

"Oh, jeez! I'm fine! I'm not sick… I … just wanted to sleep in. You can't make me stay home, ya know." He lay on his side to face her.

Adopting a serious look, she nodded her head sagely as she said, "You're right, you really are, I can't make you stay home, but I can make you _want_ to stay home."

She pulled the ultra soft sheet over their heads; they both held up arms to tent it away from their faces. In the muted light, she watched Bobby's eyes crinkle at the corners. "I know you're fine," she said. Looking at the sheet over her head, she grinned at him. "And here, I thought you didn't know how to relax."

He laughed softly. "Are you making fun of me?"

"Yes." She moved her free hand slowly over the bed below. "I have never felt anything so soft."

Bobby frowned, briefly lost in memories. "Of course you have. That great blanket throw on your couch. That's soft."

"Oh, that's not even in the same league as this." She squinted her eyes suspiciously. "So what was it, a housewarming gift from an old girlfriend?"

He chuckled again. "Why? Are you jealous?"

"Ha! It's from your mom, isn't it?"

Bobby tried to look offended. "Never! My mother has never been here."

"Are you saying you picked these out yourself?" Her incredulous look had his lips curling upward.

"Are you saying I can't have nice things?" He arched a regal brow in her direction.

Jamison pulled the sheet down, revealing his spectacular bed head and playful brown eyes. "No. I'm thinking, just when I had you pegged, you do something completely opposite."

"Ah," he replied, turning to lie on his back. "I have indulgences too, ya know." This time he gave a sidelong glance. "You imagined cheap, threadbare sheets on an old bed shoved in a corner, and neon lights flashing in my bedroom window, didn't you?" Bobby painted a vivid picture.

"Nah uh! I have been in here before, if you'll remember." Blake giggled, punching his shoulder. "This place looks like a hotel room. I'd love to wake up every morning in this bed." As soon as she said it, they were both blushing furiously. "I didn't... um..."

Bobby gave a quick smile. "I know, I know. It'd never work out anyhow."

Hearing a bit of sadness in his tone, Blake furrowed her brow. "What do you mean?"

He rounded his chameleon eyes at her; the gold from the pillow sham reflecting golden flecks flashing fire. "Apparently, I'm too indulgent." She smacked his arm again, and he pulled out a pillow from under his head, hitting her shoulder. "Yes, I, Robert Goren have guilty pleasures!

"Bubble baths," she smiled wistfully.

"Who doesn't like a good soak? That's too easy. Frozen candy bars."

"Ice cream out of the carton."

"Pillow fights."

Blake grabbed another pillow and hit him in the chest. Looking at the label, she smiled wickedly. "Hey, these are the pillows that don't –"

"Don't start!" He took another swing, rising to his knees. "I doubt you've been a good pillow fight," he said smugly.

Blake scrambled to her knees, pillow in hand. "Oh yeah? Is that a challenge?"

Bobby narrowed his eyes, striking the narrowed glint of Clint Eastwood in a half dozen spaghetti westerns. "Yeah." _Swat._

"Are you kidding me? What was that?" _Swat._

"Just a taste of the beating to come." _Swat. Swat._

In a manner of minutes, the pillow fight became an all out war. Thankfully, no pillows were harmed in this fight. Ten minutes later, they collapsed exhausted and laughing onto the bed.

His cell phone rang, breaking the mood. "This is Goren," he said, striving for formality while breathing hard. He looked over at Blake. "Yep, she's here. Woke me up from the best dream, too. Be in soon." He closed the phone and slid off the very high bed. "No rest for the wicked. Double homicide off Washington Square Park, Ross is pulling everyone in."

"Ahh, man!" Blake pouted. "Do we have to?" She scooted off the bed, straightening the covers. "I'll make some coffee." With one last forlorn look, she retrieved her shoes and coat, leaving the room with a whine.

Padding over to the bathroom, Bobby cursed the day for being Wednesday.

* * *

They left his apartment snickering about pillows and candy, coffee warming their hands.

"You are totally jealous!"

"Of course I'm jealous. I think I said that earlier." At his disbelieving look, she amended.

"Okay, maybe not. But still..." She slanted her eyes at him. "What do you know about Egyptian cotton?"

Bobby grinned devilishly at her. "More than you think."

* * *

More to come…


	6. Scraps and Snippet

The Story Continues...

* * *

Scraps and Snippet

Looking up from the book she was reading, Blake Jamison was startled to see Bobby just sitting and staring vacantly at the computer screen in front of him. In the months she and he had been dating, she had noticed an alarming rise in number and length of these fugue states that seemed to overtake him at times. He was as attentive to detail, dedicated and intense at work and as tender and passionate at home as ever, but there was something off, he looked so haggard. As he would have put it, "his affect is off." Under his eyes, dark circles had formed and sometimes he would lose his train of thought in the middle of a conversation. Initially Blake hadn't thought too much of it, because in a way that behavior was as much a part of his charm as his brown eyes and curly hair. Recently, he had started disappearing for several hours every day and she was becoming very concerned.

Night after night, Bobby would make love to her and leave her satisfied and exhausted, but he would never go to sleep with her. He would hold her until he sensed she had drifted off to sleep and then get up. In the past three and a half months, she couldn't remember when she had last seen him sleep. When she would ask him about it, he assured her he was fine. He would joke that he did sleep when she was asleep, just not as long, so it might seem to her that he never slept, even though he did. She had tried confronting Bobby several times and he would distract her with verbal games and sex until her concerns were temporarily forgotten.

The worst part was the disappearing for two and three hours every day. He wouldn't tell her where he was going. If it had been any man other than Bobby, she would have suspected it was another woman. While Bobby's fidelity wasn't at issue, his health and well-being definitely were. Where was he going and what was he doing? Every time he would disappear and return, he seemed more alert and cheerful. Blake decided when the next time he left, she would follow. The idea of doing so didn't set easy with her though. The was a very good chance that he would discover her, and the implications and his reactions to that filled her with trepidation. The idea also conjured up images of Bluebeard's wife at the idea of following him. But Bobby had come to mean too much to her, she felt she had to try and get to the bottom of things.

Abruptly, Bobby stood up from his computer and announced that he was going out. Blake smiled innocently and watched him as he went out the door. As soon as the door closed, she stood and raced to the door. Slowly, cautiously she opened the door just wide enough to see that Bobby was waiting at the elevator. She waited until he entered the elevator and the doors had slid shut before leaving the apartment. She was surprised when she realized he was taking the elevator up and not down. Where was he going in the building? He had a nodding acquaintance with several of the people in the building, but not any real friendships.

She ran to the stairs and started up, checking from the safety of the stairwell for him on each floor. On the ninth floor when she arrived at the door, she peeked through the small-reinforced window and quickly pulled back and scurried back down the stairs. He was coming towards the stairs. She leaned against the stairwell wall and held her breath as she heard the door open and Bobby's tread on the stairs heading for the roof. _What could possibly be on the roof?_ Quickly and quietly, she followed his trail. Cautiously she pushed open the door and saw Bobby entering a building in the middle of the otherwise empty rooftop. _What could Bobby possibly be seeking up here? _She crept towards the door. The door was shut, but not tightly, and she crouched down and peered inside.

There was a narrow single bed and Bobby was sitting on the edge removing his shoes and coat. Then he climbed in and clutched a little toy puppy to his chest and spoke softly. His voice was so soft that Blake had to strain to hear him.

"So… so tired Scraps. I know I should tell Blake about this, but how? Grown men aren't supposed to need childhood toys animals in order to go to sleep. I've tried sleeping without you, Scraps, but I can't do it."

Bobby's voice trailed off and he fell asleep. From the doorway, Blake watched as Bobby slept. Was this where he went every day? Briefly, she toyed with going into the room to tell Bobby he was being ridiculous and to bring his stuffed animal downstairs. However she'd learned early in their relationship not to push too hard at Bobby, because he would look of hurt that she'd see in his eyes would have her feeling guilty for days. She shook her head and smiled at the contradictions this man presented. There was the relentless interrogator who could turn a suspects' fears against him or herself, a righteous man raging against injustice wherever he saw it, but the slightest sign that Blake was anything but happy and content would bring his mood crashing down and he would become so quiet and sad-looking.

Quietly she backed away from the door, eased her way off the roof, and ran back down to the apartment where Bobby would expect to see her. She spent the next several hours wondering how to broach this subject. When Bobby walked through the door, she was in the kitchen fixing a quick dinner of pasta and salad. He leaned against the doorjamb and watched her efficiently maneuver around his kitchen. When she felt his eyes upon her, she turned and smiled at him. She walked over, hugged him tightly, and said nothing. Nothing about what she had witnessed upstairs, nothing about how much she wanted to ease whatever burden it was that had prompted this behavior. _Everything in its time_, she thought.

They talked through dinner about the movie they had watched the night before. Several weeks ago, they had begun talking about and plotting a perfect murder. They had each chosen a high profile target and each were working on their own perfect scenario. Every time Blake thought she had hers, Bobby would point out to her the giant flaw in her plan and didn't hesitate to point it out to her, as he did again this night. She could find no fault in Bobby's plan, although he assured her it was there, it was always there. When they had finished cleaning up from the meal, Blake pouted prettily that she was dying for hot chocolate from the coffee shop down the street. She knew Bobby would insist on going to get her heart's desire. That, she thought, would give her just enough time to do what needed to be done.

She was right and Bobby left on the hot chocolate run. She opened his center desk drawer and grabbed Bobby's lock picking kit (_the one he didn't think she knew about)_ and ran upstairs to the room where he had slept earlier. Since getting together with Bobby, she'd learned all manner of useful skills and interesting bits of information. Soon she had the door unlocked. With a satisfied grin on her face, she rushed into the room, grabbed Scraps, closed, and locked the door behind her.

Carrying the stuffed dog downstairs, Blake spoke to the little stuffed animal, "You and I need to become better acquainted because it seems we both have Bobby's best interests at heart." The little dog was worn, battered and threadbare. It looked well-loved and must surely have been favored above all others, to have lasted these many years.

Hiding the stuffed dog under her pillow, Blake smiled. Bobby absolutely hated it when she mentioned finding something cute or endearing about him, but the stuffed dog was really quite sweet. Couldn't he understand yet that she loved everything about him? Blake had witnessed Bobby work some spectacular crime scenes, efficiently and cooling and that methodical approach to violence intrigued her. At the same time, she loved his old-fashioned streak, with a penchant for ballroom dancing and formal manners. This new side, this extremely vulnerable side that he'd been hiding was incredibly endearing and she looked forward to getting to know this new facet of Bobby. Changing into a nightgown, she waited for him.

Bobby returned, bearing two steaming cups of hot chocolate before presenting it to Blake with a flourish. "Your hot chocolate, milady..."

Taking the offered cup from Bobby, Blake smiled warmly and asked "Do you have any idea how much I love you?"

"Actually I think I might have a small idea, but I think I'd rather you showed me just ... just to be certain." Bobby reached out and brushed a loose strand of hair from her face.

Blake took a sip of her hot chocolate and then another before slowly setting it aside. Any other man would have been furious to go out especially to get the hot chocolate and to have her take only two sips. However, Bobby wasn't just any man, he really seemed to care about Blake's happiness, and if two sips was all she wanted, that was reason enough to have made the trip in Bobby's mind. Being with him was very liberating because he encouraged her to do whatever she felt like whenever she felt like it. Part of why she finally broke her own rule about dating a cop, was that time she spent with Bobby was so wonderful - strange and difficult, challenging and empowering - and fun too.

Looking up at Bobby, she grabbed his hand and led him into the bedroom. Blake uttered one word, "Strip."

"Merely undress or am I expected to dance?" Bobby inquired with amusement.

"Just undress and get into bed, unless you really feel the need to dance," She teased. "Far be it from me to stop you if you want to dance."

Bobby undressed and put on a pair of pajama pants she handed him and got into the bed as Blake pulled the covers back. Once Bobby was laying down Blake slid into bed beside him and kissed his cheek, kissed his forehead, kissed the tip of his nose. He reached around her to take her in his arms but she drew back slightly. Confused, Bobby looked at her, wondering what Blake had in mind. "What?"

Hesitantly and nervously, Blake whispered, "Bobby... Bobby, I've thought about this for awhile today, and ... and I'd really like someone to join us tonight."

Instantly, Bobby's expression clouded over and an angry look came over his face. There wasn't anything he wouldn't do for Blake, but no one, male or female would ever be permitted to share their bed. Silently Bobby watched as Blake reached under her pillow and brought out Scraps. Relief battled with embarrassment and confusion as she brought the stuffed dog between them and smiled at him. Uncertainly, he returned her smile and waited for an explanation.

"I followed you earlier because I've been worried about you. Even though I know you're always here, I get lonely sleeping without you. So I decided that I needed to know who you've been running off to go meet up with. I have to admit I was quite relieved to see that it was Scraps here. I was also thinking that maybe he could start sleeping here with both of us and then none of us would be left alone."

Bobby ducked his head in embarrassment, but also in relief. "I feel really foolish about this, all of this… I found him when I went through the few things that my mom still had left and there's just so many times I can't seem to shut down…"

"Oh don't, please don't... I don't need an explanation. ! I'll grant you that it's a little ..."

"Infantile." Bobby supplied.

"No, not at all. It's about comfort, being comforted and needing to be comforted. I understand that and there's nothing infantile about that. Everyone needs comfort and sometimes what comforts us most, makes no sense to anyone else. I think it's sweet and endearing…" Blake stopped as his expression clouded over slightly and she continued, "in a terribly brilliant and deadly sort of way. In fact you're absolutely terrifying and..."

Bobby put his hand up as he started laughing, "Enough. Okay, you've outed me, but you can _not_ let anyone else find out about this. Can you imagine how much grief Logan would give me over something like this? Or Eames, Ross or, ohmigod, the Chief of D's? If he found out about this, he'd have Olivet sign off on me so quick..."

Laughing at the look of horror on his face, she silenced him, pressing her lips to his. Scraps was shortly forgotten as they kissed. The little stuffed animal was gently placed on a pillow on the floor and covered with Blake's nightgown. Later Scraps joined them up in the bed and the three slept through the night, together.

At Valentine's a female plush and soft puppy arrived. Blake named her Snippet. From then on, most nights would find Bobby and Blake asleep in each other's arms while they cradled their own stuffed animal. Most nights Scraps and Snippet would spend quite a while in a basket beside the bed, because there are just some things puppies should never see... even plush toy puppies.

* * *

More to come…


	7. Resistance is Futile

The story continues…

* * *

Resistance Is Futile

"You know, you don't need to help me." Bobby said as he watched Blake washing the dried mud off the wheels of his beloved Mustang.

"Yes, I know." She smirked at him. "You keep telling me, but since I'm the one mostly responsible…

"Mostly responsible?" He asked incredulously.

"All right, all right. Solely and completely responsible for the state she's in, it's only fair if I help you clean up. Unless you see this as some arcane male slash machine bonding moment, not to be shared with a girl, even though you refer to your car as a 'she'."

Grinning he pointed the dripping sponge at her as he said, "I knew I shouldn't let you drive my baby."

"You have to admit, we had a lot of fun."

"You had a lot of fun. I was in fear for my life the whole time."

And we're both having fun now, washing your car now, aren't we? Who am I to deprive us of having a good time?"" Blake grinned back at him and plunged her sponge back into the water.

"Still she doesn't like to be muddy." he added as he started to wipe the sponge gently across her hood. "And I don't like her that way either, by the way."

"You're talking about this car as if it really is your baby." Blake chuckled, but when she looked at him, she had to swallow hard. Bobby leaned over the hood to reach the middle of it and his shirt was wet from the water, plastered to his body. She would kill to be that hood now. Or maybe she could just grab him and throw him down onto the hood of his car. She smiled at the thought.

"Hey, stunt driver," Bobby scolded as she noticed that he was staring at her. "Are you going to help me or not?"

"Of course, I am." she sighed when the very X-rated images in her head blurred as his words brought her back to reality.

Bobby just grinned. He had to admit that it was much more fun to wash his car with Blake's help than to do it alone. The day was nice and warm and they were left unimpeded in the back alley of his apartment building since all of his neighbors had to work on a Monday afternoon. He was glad that the last couple of weeks had the two on the same rotation, allowing them to have the same days off.

They cleaned Bobby's car and kept teasing each other, trash talking the other's driving skills.

"Hey, I never drove her across a field because I couldn't stay on the road." Bobby pouted.

"Yeah, I was a little too fast." Blake giggled, playing up the ditzy blond angle. She remembered how Bobby had shrieked and held onto the dashboard when the car had swung off the road because she'd taken that curve too fast to manage the hairpin bend.

"A little?" he exclaimed. "I didn't know that she would handle that well off-road. You could have killed all of us."

"Relax, baby, I knew what I was doing." she assured him.

"Like hell you did." he grumbled, shaking his head.

"Hey, are you calling me a bad driver?" she teased as she stopped rinsing the soapy water from the car and swung the hose in his direction.

"Don't you dare spray me!" he scolded as he jumped back.

Grinning she pointed the hose directly at him. And pulled the trigger sending a heavy spray right at him.

Bobby yelled as the cold water hit him and thoroughly soaked his shirt, his face and his hair.

Blake laughed and then dropped the hose, slowly backing away.

"Just you wait!" he snorted, as he grabbed a half full bucket and race around the opposite side of the car. Grabbing her wrist, he halted her retreat and dumped the remaining soapy water all over her.

For a second Blake was completely stunned. It took her several beats to collect her thoughts before she was able to exclaim, "That calls for revenge!"

Breaking free from his grasp, she feinted left, then right as she tried to get back to the hose she'd dropped earlier. She knew he was much faster and stronger than she was, but she had the greater agility, mobility and she was willing to fight dirty too.

But Bobby's greater reach was her undoing. Bobby grabbed hold of her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close and lifting her off the ground. He tried to make his way to the hose for another dousing, but the ground beneath them had turned into a sloggy, slippery mud pit. Her struggles combined with the slick mud caused Bobby to loose his balance and the two went down – hard.

Bobby's back landed painfully on the ground as strangled "oooph" as the wind was knocked out of him as Blake's weight settled on him. Unable to keep from laughing, she gasped out, as her hand came up to wipe away a smear of mud from his cheek. "Are you okay?"

"You think that's funny?" he scolded unable to hold back his own laughter.

"Actually, I do." she giggled.

For a good minute they lay in the backyard next to Bobby's car, their clothes soaking wet and muddied as their laughter continued.

Until Blake became aware of the sight underneath her, his hair was a mess and wet from the water, his cheeks were flushed from the chase and he already looked as if… they'd just had sex.

Bobby smiled lecherously, accurately guessing the turn her thoughts had taken. He had the better of her so he decided to take advantage of that.

Without warning, his lips captured hers and his hand slid under her shirt.

"Don't you dare." Blake gasped. "I'm not going to have sex with you where all of your neighbors can see it."

"Let's get into the car." he suggested starting to nibble on her neck. He knew too well what that did to her.

"I'm not going to have sex with you in your car either." she panted. During the past five months since they'd become an item Bobby had managed to talk her into pretty much anything. But this time she wouldn't give in to him.

The problem was that he had discovered all her sensitive spots within the first five days – and he absolutely knew how to convince her. "Don't!" she gasped when his hand brushed across her most sensitive spot.

"Don't what?" he grinned repeating the movement.

"Dammit, I hate you." Blake moaned. "That's not fair." She guessed Bobby wasn't above a little fighting dirty either.

"No, you can't help but love me." Bobby chuckled and captured her lips with his again to swallow her moan when his hand slid down her waist and around her back, pulling her into an even tighter embrace.

"Not… here…" she managed to say as his hands began to slip down below the waistband of her jeans. Breaking his hold on her, she stood up, pulling Bobby up with her and pretty much threw the big man into the backseat of the car.

There was barely enough space for both of them in the backseat but somehow Blake managed to free her and him from all their clothes in the blink of an eye. This was so not fair! She hadn't wanted to give in to him. But it had taken Bobby less than two seconds to banish all thoughts of resistance from her mind – as usual.

* * *

More to come…


	8. Dance

The story continues…

* * *

Dance

_She is his remedy to cloudy days and nonbelievers._

It's taking superhuman effort not to move, not to acknowledge her presence at all. He repeats the words over and over to himself like a mantra, hoping the words and their dwindling meaning will stay stuck. If he ever needed composure, now was the time. _Don't move... don't move... don't move._

She stands in the doorway, shirt hanging on her delicate frame several sizes too large and too long—his shirt. She stretches her arms and yawns—_don't move_. Her hair is a tousled mess and he wants to run his hands in it again, craving the feel of the soft strands as they slip through his fingers.

She finishes her stretch with a satisfied sigh and he continues to feign sleep, sinking back deeper into the covers. She doesn't realize and tip-toes over to the side of the bed. He finds the soft padding of her quiet steps comforting. She leans over him slightly, and he can feel her warmth, feel her hair sweep softly against his neck and collarbone, smell the flowers in her hair, the sweetness of her skin. _Don't move._

She brushes back the dark curls from his face, letting her fingers linger a as they trace the planes and contours of his face. Back and forth, back and forth, the features she knows and loves so much.

Relaxing is inevitable and he melts with her touch. _Don't move._

She leans in closer—the embrace of her warmth and her sweetness envelops him —leans in to kiss him softly. But her lips are generous and reach to graze his temple, his forehead, nose, and chin. He wants to kiss her back so desperately it's maddening. Kiss her everywhere, again and again, never to stop. _Don't move._

She pulls away slowly and straightens; he misses her already. She is his remedy to cloudy days and nonbelievers. There is space between them and that should not be. It won't be long before he is ready to close it. _Don't move._

_Don't mo— The i_mpulse is too strong and he can no longer hold it at bay, and he's already reaching out to grab her, dragging her over effortlessly. She gasps, surprised into laughter and he revels in the sound.

And then their lips meet, they are kissing, really kissing and it's amazing. Sealed together utterly inseparable and unbroken. He can hear the song, feel the dance. His heart beats against hers—rushing, pulsing, living—it is there. They are in sync.

This song, this dance, he wants to be locked in it with her forever.

He opens his eyes and her expression is soft and dreamy. He pushes wayward strands of hair from her face and wonders again what it is she sees in him. Amazed and grateful she sees anything.

He realizes they are nowhere near perfection, and it is an unbroken litany that encompasses his thoughts now, but this is where he is happy. Now it's his turn to trace the planes and contours of her face as he loses himself in her smile, in her eyes, lingering on her lips before replacing his fingertip with his lips to kiss her again and again. Never to stop.

* * *

More to come…


	9. Making it Official

The story continues…

* * *

Making It Official

It was a rare Sunday at home, at least so far. One or the other were more than likely be called out to a crime scene by the afternoon, but neither dared tempt fate by voicing that aloud. Instead, they slept in late then shared the newspaper over coffee and bagels. It was pretty damn perfect; pretty damn 'normal', at least as normal as she thought they were ever going to be.

Except that Blake noticed that Bobby had been more fidgety than normal and that he'd been acting, well… weird all morning, re-filling her coffee cup without prompting, brushing her neck with his lips as he passed by her, giving her the front section of the newspaper first… it was weird and frankly, it was starting to freak her out.

Even now, she could feel his eyes on her as she read the editorial page. She looked up at him, sitting diagonal from her at the dining room table, but he just smiled and ducked his head back down to read his section of the paper. Yeah, this was freaking her out.

"What?" she said when she couldn't contain her curiosity any longer.

He raised an eyebrow but kept his eye on the paper. "What, what?"

"That's what I'm asking you. What?"

"I'm…" he shook the paper in his hands. "Sitting here reading the paper."

She squinted her eyes and stared at him. "You're just reading the paper…"

"Yep," he said with a grin before leaning over and kissing her without reason. Weird.

Something was up, but what was she supposed to do? Accuse him of being… nice? She watched as he went back to his paper. Several beats later, she shook out her section of the paper and then reluctantly followed suit.

It felt like only minutes later that the hairs on her neck began to rise again. Peeking up at him out of the corner of her eye, she caught him in the act. "Ah hah!" she shouted, slamming her section of the paper to the table.

He smirked at her. "Ah hah?"

"You're staring at me!"

He shrugged. "Well, you're a beautiful woman."

And what in the hell was she supposed to say to that? She couldn't think of anything, no comeback, no accusation, nothing, so she sat there staring dumbfounded at him until, obviously amused at her confusion, he stood, picked up her coffee cup and walked into the kitchen. Weird. Why was he being so … so Bobby.

"So," he said, wandering back into the dining room a minute later with her re-filled coffee cup and another bagel for himself. He kissed her temple, handed her the cup, and sat back down. "I'm thinking we should make this official."

She froze, the coffee cup half-way to her mouth, and looked at him for a few seconds. "Official… make what official?"

"Yeah," he said with a confident nod. "You haven't slept at your place in what, three months? You should just move in."

That's what all this fuss was about? She smiled slightly and took a drink of the coffee. "Make it official," she repeated as she put the cup down on the table.

"Yes."

She picked up her section of the paper and opened it back up to the editorials. "I hate to break it to you, big guy, but I gave up my apartment a month and a half ago. It is and has been official."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm serious. Move in with me."

"I'm serious. I did," she said, not taking her eyes off the paper.

He chuckled. "Yeah, right. You just moved in one day and I didn't notice."

She put the paper down again. This was getting fun. "Apparently, Mr. Hot Shot Detective."

"You don't live here," he said dismissively.

"Yes I do."

"Nuh huh."

She laughed at his denial. "My lease ended on March 31st. Not only haven't I slept there in almost three months, it hasn't even been my apartment for almost two months. I thought it was silly to keep wasting money on a place I was never at anymore."

"Come on, Blake. Be serious."

He didn't believe her? She leaned back in her seat and looked pointedly at the plate that held the remains of his bagel. His eyes followed hers and he studied the plate before snapping his head back up to her. "No way!"

She laughed and took another drink of coffee. "You really haven't noticed?"

"No! I…" he got up and walked into the bedroom. Walking back out quickly he muttered, "You're using half the closet now."

She nodded. "Anything else?"

"These dishes…" he trailed off before looking at her with panicked eyes. "You live here?" he shrieked.

"I told you so. I don't know why you didn't believe me. I wouldn't lie to you."

"'You wouldn't lie to me,' he echoed in disbelief as he slowly sunk down into his chair. "When did you move in?"

She shrugged slowly. "Gradually. A little at a time."

"How did I not know?"

She shrugged and stood with her empty coffee cup and plate. "You've been going through a lot, sometimes the small things just slip through the cracks." She kissed the top of his head and took her things into the kitchen.

"The small things? This is not a small thing! Where's your furniture?" he asked, hot on her heels.

She turned and took his dishes from him. "My bed and dresser are in the spare room; everything else went to Goodwill. It was all second hand, and you're stuff is so much nicer."

"There's a bed in the spare room?" he shrieked, walking out of the kitchen without waiting for her answer.

She followed him with a grin. Now look at who was freaking out.

"Blake!"

"Yes?" she said walking up behind him as he stood in the doorway to the spare room.

"There's a bed in here!"

"I told you. Remember me, I'm the one who won't lie to you. There's also a dresser and a television set. And the rest of my clothes."

He looked at her wide-eyed, then walked over to the closet and opened the door. "Blake!" he shrieked, spinning around to face her.

"Yes?" she asked innocently.

"You live here!"

"Yes," she said nodding.

"Blake!"

"Yes?"

"You moved in here without talking to me about it! Don't you think that's… that's… I don't know… something?"

She tried not to laugh, really she did. But he looked adorable. "Would you like me to move out for a few days? Then you can ask me again and I'll pretend to be surprised."

He stared at her as if she was insane, and then walked out into the living room. She found him there a minute later, looking at the new books on the bookshelf and her CD's in the CD holder. After that, he went into the spare bathroom and looked underneath the sink. He picked up a towel that came from her apartment and studied it for a minute, then put it back down. Next, he went into the kitchen, opening each cupboard and cocking his head in confusion. He fingered the sheets in the bedroom and the shower curtain in the main bathroom, but eventually made his way back to the spare room.

"Wasn't…" he said to himself, looking at the corner of the room. "Wasn't there a desk in here?"

She'd been following behind him, giving him plenty of space, so she walked the rest of the way into the room. "Yes, but you never work in here, you always work on the couch or the dining room table. I thought this room could be put to better use."

Wide-eyed, he looked over at her.

She came up next to him and ran he hand up and down the length of his back, "How you doing?" she asked in a concerned voice, even though it was really quite funny.

He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again and fell down to sit on the bed.

"I'll just…" she hooked her thumb over her shoulder. "Give you a few minutes to get used to the idea."

She kissed the top of his head and then went back into the kitchen to put the bagels away and wash their breakfast dishes, thinking that her plan to ease Bobby into the idea of cohabitation might not have been her best ever. She knew he had trouble handling change, so she'd thought a little bit at a time would be easier for him than a full-scale assault. She might have overestimated his ability to figure it out a little at a time.

Several minutes passed before she heard his footsteps down the hall. He stopped in the doorway to the kitchen and leaned against the frame. He didn't say anything for another few minutes, but she thought it best to wait it out.

"When Lewis has too much to drink and shouldn't drive home, he could stay in there" he said, looking down at the floor.

She looked over at him and nodded. He looked better. Still a little shocked, but definitely better.

"And your…" he trailed off and gulped heavily while motioning to her. Yes, definitely still a little freaked out. "You know... when they come," he said, his voice jumping an octave.

She smiled softly. "We can work our way up to that."

He nodded and took a deep breath, then walked over to her and held her from behind, propping his chin on the top of her head and watching her do the dishes. "You ok?" she asked hesitantly.

He nodded, burying himself in her neck. "When I propose," he mumbled against her skin. "You aren't going to tell me we're already married are you?"

She shivered just a bit and felt him smile against her skin. "That one, I'll leave all up to you," she said softly.

"Thank you," leaning around and kissing her on the lips. He stood then and walked back towards the hallway, turning around just before leaving the room. "And I don't ever want to find anything out by walking into that room and seeing that it's been turned into a nursery. Got it?"

She smiled brightly at him and nodded. "Got it."

* * *

More to come…


	10. Breaking His Concentration

he story continues…

* * *

Breaking His Concentration

Blake sighed as she walked in the door and kicked off her heels. "I was downtown all day, and they never even called me or Officer Jackson to testify. The whole day was wasted, and Cutter expects us down there again tomorrow. I liked McCoy better." She grumbled as she dropped the grocery bags on the kitchen counter.

Bobby didn't respond. She peeked into the living room; he was on the couch, studying a group of photographs and clippings spread out on the coffee table. His coffee cup, half-empty, was on the end table, next to him.

"Doesn't make any sense," she heard him say.

"Hello to you too, Bobby." Blake recognized his distracted air and knew she had her work cut out for her.

He still didn't look up, instead picking up another photograph, turning it sideways, inspecting every inch of it. "Two dead in the same house, second victim is holding the gun, he has blood spatter and GSR all over him, but the bullets…" he picked up another photo, "…the bullets Rodgers extracted do _not_ come from his gun."

"Are you supposed to take case files home with you?"

"This isn't a case file. I made copies of the photographs." He answered, distractedly. "If someone else was the shooter, how did he wind up with both blood and residue on him? It doesn't make any sense."

"You made copies." Blake said, stunned. "You know, most people are finished with work when they head home for the day."

"Most people do not have an open homicide investigation." He pulled up another photo, this one of two bullets lined up side-by-side. From what she could see from the other side of the room, they looked very much alike, although admittedly ballistics wasn't her specialty.

"Where's Alex?"

"She went home. She can just shut it off at the end of the day, I can't."

"Yeah, I've noticed." The small shake of her head, the eye roll and sarcasm were all lost on him as he continued to study the photos.

"Do you have any suspects?" she asked. Realizing he was going to be distracted for the rest of the night, she joined in to keep from being completely ignored for the evening.

"Not at the moment."

"Any leads? Any solid evidence as to who might have done it?"

"Also, not at the moment."

"To the best of your knowledge, is there some kind of crazy psycho killer running loose in New York City?"

"Probably not, but it's a big city. This looks more like a domestic incident of some kind – at least it would if these were his bullets – "

"That…that wasn't really my point." She said, with a laugh. "You're staring at photos. It's not like you can stare them down until they talk."

"I'm missing something." His gaze had still not moved from the evidence gallery. "I _know_ I'm missing something. There has to be an inconsistency somewhere…"

She sighed as she watched him rifle though the photos, the diagrams, the floor plans of the house, again. He was impossible to talk to when he got like this. This called for drastic measures.

"You know," she said casually, "if you weren't so busy with that, you might notice that I'm not wearing any clothes."

He froze for a moment – but only for a moment. After that slight pause, it was right back to the files. "You have clothes on, Blake."

"How do you know? You're still haven't looked at me."

"Because you just walked in the door a few minutes ago, and I very much doubt that you spent all day at Centre Street naked." He kept his eyes on the photos, though by now it was more to make a point than anything else. "Court officers generally frown on that."

"I could have undressed while we were talking."

"That fast?"

"Yes, that fast."

He shook his head. "Blake, I'm sorry, but I have an open investigation with no leads, and if there was a third party involved, they are still out there. If there is anything else to find in this evidence, it may be the difference between catching a killer and letting him walk." He took a sip of his coffee.

"I know, I know," she said, walking his way. "Saving the world one crime scene at a time, right?"

She sat down beside him. He stopped dead as he noticed that, in fact, she wasn't wearing any clothes.

She couldn't help but grin as he hastily put down the coffee and made a show of checking his watch. "That, um…that _was_ fast."

"The faster I can change, the later I get to sleep in the morning." She shrugged innocently.

"I see." His voice was calm, but he was still recovering, looking everywhere but at her. She put a hand on his cheek, turned him to face her, and, very slowly for maximum effect, kissed him.

He didn't resist the kiss. Nor did he resist when she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him close, nor when she let one hand trail down his back.

His eyes remained closed as they separated. After a few seconds, he opened them, smiled, and said, very firmly, "_No._"

No surprises there. She sighed. "Don't make this harder than it has to be."

"Right back at you."

You really do need a break."

"And I'll take one, when I've finished. I need to get this investigation on track."

"You're off-duty _detective_," she protested as she stood up. "You're not even supposed to be working." With that, she turned on her heel, picked up her clothes, and stalked into the bedroom - indignantly, she hoped. And slammed the door for added effect.

He laughed and went back to the photographs, mostly to prevent himself from watching her leave.

* * *

Blake returned from the bedroom, casually but fully dressed in her usual stay-at-home after work attire. Tank top and loose fitting sleep pants. The pair she happened to have on tonight was her favorite pair. They had once be blue flannel, but they were now so old, there was no flannel left, just incredibly soft cotton. Making her way out to the kitchen, she began to put the few groceries she'd bought into the refrigerator.

Of _course_ there was no coffee left in the coffeepot. Blake wondered, how long Bobby had been sitting there going over the crime scene photos. Humming to herself, she rummaged around the kitchen, looking for the coffee filters. She hadn't familiarized herself with Bobby's kitchen yet; so far, she had adopted a trial and error strategy to find what she needed. The cabinets and drawers were mostly empty, and the appliances and utensils in them were not frequently used – the hallmarks of both a bachelor and a working woman who didn't particularly like to cook. That pretty much covered Bobby and her.

"They're in the second cabinet on the left." Bobby had come into the kitchen without her even noticing – some time ago, apparently, as he was now close enough to put a hand on her waist. She hated when he snuck up on her.

She slowly turned to face him, her arms folded in front of her. "I thought you had work to do," she said. Her tone was light and teasing and although he didn't let her see it, he was relieved she wasn't angry.

"I did." He replied; both hands were on her waist now, thumbs gently rubbing small circles over her hip bones. "I found what may be a lead in the bullet trajectories analysis."

"Ah." She smiled. "You finally made those photos confess. I'm impressed."

"That's what I do. Get the confession from the most difficult suspects."

"Does that mean you're taking a break?"

"I think I'd like one, yes."

Her eyes opened wide, and suddenly she shook her head. "Oh no you don't," she said, pointing at him. "You had your chance, Bobby Goren. I seem to recall you being too busy, something to do with an open homicide investigation."

"That was before I got my confession. Now it's time to celebrate. Don't I get a second chance?" He asked. The smile was back.

"You most certainly do not. A lead, Goren... all you got was a lead. And that doesn't entitle you to a second chance. How do you think I feel about being blown off for your – your bullet trajectories or whatever you said they were? I'm not happy about it, you know."

Seeing the wicked grin on his face, she pre-empted him, "And don't be making any lame joke about being…"

"Blown?" Bobby asked, laughing.

Blake was shaking her head and raised her eyes to avoid seeing the grin on his face. But it was too late, a big grin playing about her lips. She agreed, "Yeah, no lame jokes about being blown…", before breaking into a hysterical giggling fit.

"Would it help if I apologized?" He had moved closer; they were inches apart now.

"It might." _Definitely, if her racing heartbeat was any indication._ She couldn't say she didn't see it coming when he kissed her. Considering how close he was, she would have been disappointed if he didn't. But that didn't mean there were no surprises waiting for her.

She not only heard his apology, she felt it as his warm breath teased her lips.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, just before his lips touched hers.

She hadn't expected him to kiss her quite like this – arm around her waist, hand behind her head, nothing separating them but a layer or two of fabric. She hadn't expected the kiss to send a shiver of delight up her spine, either. And she hadn't expected to be breathless when it ended_. Too_ _soon, that kiss ended way too soon._

She too kept her eyes closed for a moment after it was over, letting his taste linger on her lips. It didn't take her long to regain her composure, and as she did, she straightened, standing tall. Turnabout was fair play. Slowly, deliberately and, very definitely, she said, "_No._"

It was his turn to laugh. "If you say so."

"I do." She gave him a playful shove. "Now get back to work, you. I thought you had a crime to solve. I'll let you know when the coffee's done."

Bobby nodded and leaned down to plant a kiss on the top of her head as he slid his hands down her arms to grasp her hands. He held them wrapped lightly within his as he slowly backed out of the kitchen.

When he turned, Blake called out, "And then I'll let you know when 'no' becomes 'yes.'

Bobby might have been able to pull off a dignified and solemn return to his work, had Blake not seen the joyous grin on his face reflected in the mirror across the room.

* * *

More to come…


	11. Pumpkin Carving

The Story Continues...

* * *

Pumpkin Carving

When Blake hinted she had a special surprise for him, and would be bringing it with her to the apartment tonight, Bobby's imagination had conjured an entire array of hopeful possibilities.

A new film, a new food; a new tool or a new gadget ... the list of possibilities was endless. Maybe even a new item of clothing - for her of course, certainly not for himself.

Well, in the end, his guess of 'a new food' wasn't entirely off the mark. But it certainly wasn't what he was expecting though, in any way, shape, or form. Because when she finally arrived, she was carrying a large, orange pumpkin.

"Whew! I made it!" she exclaimed. "This is heavier than I thought." She puffed heavily, and Bobby rushed to take the weight from her arms.

"Blake?" he asked, lifting it in one hand. He studied it with no small amount of surprise, turning it round and round as if it were an overgrown football. ... ... Yes, it was indeed a pumpkin. From any angle. "You brought me a pumpkin?"

"I thought it would be fun to make a jack-o-lantern this year," she stated, not as a request, nor as a plea, but as a wish she was determined to fulfill. She'd do it on her own if she had to, but she hoped he would like to help. "I haven't had once since I was really little, and my brother and I would carve it on the kitchen floor. My neighbor just took her grandchildren to a country pumpkin patch out on the island, and she's handing pumpkins out to everyone on our floor. And well, I don't plan on eating it, and I don't want to let it just sit there and rot away, so ... I want a jack-o-lantern."

Bobby's eyes lingered on the large, round fruit for another few moments. She smiled - _Maybe he was waiting to see if it would turn into a horse-drawn carriage?_ _Or for the headless horseman to come galloping by, and claim it as his own? _

"You do realize, that pumpkin carving skills are not part of my skill set…" he pointed out. "In fact, I don't believe I've ever worked in any of the 'fresh produce' media."

Blake laughed, because at least that meant he was going to do it, willing to give it a try. She could hear his reluctant agreement just a few layers below his words. "That's ok, I know the basics." She strode across the room, dropping her purse on the kitchen counter and retrieving yesterday's newspaper. "The trick," she announced, "is to catch all the mess. Other than that, it's a piece of cake."

She spread out the newspaper on the kitchen floor and indicated where she wanted him to deposit the pumpkin.

He did. "Well, step one was easy enough." He said as he knelt down beside her. _Really, it couldn't be that bad, could it?_ Not bad at all, up until Blake grabbed her purse again.

The knife she withdrew was impressive. Large, serrated and ominous, in Bobby's opinion. He'd been expecting a marker, with which they would share the fun of drawing the intended design. Instead, other more frightening scenarios suggested themselves.

"I didn't know if you'd have a large enough knife." She explained when she saw the look in his eyes. Slowly walking her fingers around the thick stem, in search of some mystically perfect spot for the first incision, she added, "Trust me, this is the worst part." Well this, and sticking your hands in to get all the seeds out."

Bobby leaned forward as the knife was poised and readied to make the first cut. He wasn't about to sit there and watch an accident unfold, his hands ready to snatch that knife away if it did anything other than cut smoothly into the pumpkin's flesh. Blake dug the tip in, she wiggled it, she grimaced, and she shoved it the rest of the way through. Bobby breathed a sigh of relief.

Well that went well for a first cut, but getting that knife the entire way around the pumpkin's top would turn out to be far more of a hassle. Blake struggled and wrestled with the knife, trying to find an angle that would work. Bobby offered to take over, but she hastily declined. A point of pride or sheer determination or stubbornness, he thought a combination of the three. Either way, she'd traced only one third of a circle before she got the blade well and truly stuck.

"They're tougher than I remember," she complained, but remained undaunted. Bobby said nothing, merely waiting for the next danger, when she'd try to pull that knife back out.

She wiggled it, and dug the blade deeper into the pumpkin. She jiggled it, and managed to somehow snag the serrated teeth in a vein of the tougher, outer hide. She smacked the handle in a moment of frustration when it refused to go any further.

And then, she did exactly what Bobby had been fearful of, waiting for. She gripped the knife with both hands and gave it a good, outward yank. Bobby grabbed the pumpkin in the process, just in case. Better him than her, if something would happen, he thought.

The knife jerked out, and best of all there were no casualties. Only a seed that had been dislodged from its home. It flew up, bounced off his chest and plinked to the tiled floor.

Well that was enough of that. He took the pumpkin. He took the knife. He even took the seed, before it could dry fast to his recently cleaned floor. "Let's finish this on the kitchen table," he suggested. "And if you don't mind," he held the knife carefully away from them both ... "I believe I shall take over the pick and shovel duties now."

"Be my guest." Blake said as she sat back on her heels as grinned up at him.

An hour later, the process was moving along remarkably well. Bobby had the lid cut out in a matter of minutes, but used the excuse of consulting the internet to find a pattern to use while Blake scooped out the slimy innards. At least he was helpful enough to provide her with a sturdy ladle. Plus, he didn't think she couldn't do much damage with that, either.

It was always amazing what one could find on the internet. Along with the general history and lore of the holiday, much of which Bobby already knew - there was also a plethora of decorating tips. Enough jack-o-lantern patterns to bring an entire pumpkin patch to life.

Some were scary. Some were silly. Some were more complicated than seemed possible on a mere piece of fruit. But in the end, he chose a picture that appealed to him far more than any other.

"This is so not in the spirit of the holiday," Blake protested, as he carved away layers of orange pulp. "What happened to scary? What happened to spooky?"

"Oh I've found it quite frightening several times." Bobby countered, stepping around the table, a petite melon baller in hand. Quickly stepping aside to avoid the damp dishrag she threw at him. He glanced over at her perched on a barstool at the counter and grinned.

"I thought I told you not to move." He walked over to her and putting his finger under her chin to guide her back to the proper position. Returning to the pumpkin he picked up one of the many improvised tools he'd been using – the knives, the spoons, and yes, even a tiny melon baller - much to Blake's momentary amusement, Bobby was now etching out her features on the surface of the pumpkin.

Blake crossed her arms and let out a frustrated breath. Gone were her visions of a buck-toothed smile. Gone were the squinting, glaring eyes. Gone was the triangular hole where a nose should have been. Her pumpkin was now going to bear a caricature of her face.

Creative, yes. Carved with remarkable talent, that frankly surprised her, yes. But hardly something to go bump in the night.

"No one will understand it," she pointed out. Not that she'd given thought to who might actually see it. But Bobby knew what he was doing. Bobby knew remarkably well just exactly what he was doing.

Changing the subject, he began, "You know, the purpose of these lanterns around one's dwelling, was not merely to frighten the living, but to discourage the presence of the dead. Particularly spirits of a more 'evil' persuasion. It is those who would seek to harm; those who would bring misfortune and mischief; that the glowing faces are meant to repel. Though I admit that if we were to be perfectly authentic, this should be a turnip rather than a pumpkin."

"Yeah?" she challenged, still in obvious dissent. "And so you're saying that my face is scary to the evil dead ... that's good to know. So tell me how, exactly, my face is scary to the evil dead?"

Bobby looked up, but for only a moment. He was nearly finished, and enjoying the project far more than he'd anticipated. "Patience, Blake. You'll see."

I mean, this really is not what I had in mind." Blake protested again." They were now sitting on the sofa, watching the glow radiate from the image of _her_ carved face.

Bobby's head tilted, his attention returning to her. He'd honestly enjoyed himself, and he'd thought she had too. "Do you really not like it? Do you feel that I've wasted your pumpkin? I'll get another one if you want. I'll get you one, I'll get you a dozen to replace it. And we can give them whatever designs you like."

"No," she replied. "I guess I just didn't think you'd treat it like - I don't know - like a museum exhibit or something." She cast him a chiding, embarrassed glance, though the beginnings of an ironic smile did quirk one corner of her mouth.

"A dozen, eh?" She had to admit, her inner child was tempted. "I thought we'd give _him_ a goofy smile, spooky eyes, and set _him_ on the coffee table. I was just trying to bring some 'Halloween' to the apartment." She stepped closer, placing one hand landing lightly on his chest. "I thought we'd turn the lights off, pretend it was scary, and you could protect me."

A grin spread over his face as he considered her subtle suggestion. A light chuckle came, and his hand wrapped warmly around hers." I will carve for you as many 'goofy' faces as you like. But you must understand it from my perspective; this particular pumpkin is already protecting you." _And me_. "Evil does not fear evil, evil does not fear 'spooky', evil does not fear 'goofy'. How better to protect you from evil, than to counter it with pure goodness and light?

Blake's eyes rolled.

"If it does its job, there will be nothing to protect you from in the first place." He leaned closer, to playfully, even bashfully warn, "Unless, perhaps, from me of course."

"Oh really? And who's going to protect you?" she challenged.

Bobby replaced the lid, patting the pumpkin with pride and satisfaction. He would have to maintain the same level of skill to hold future carvings to this same level of skill. A challenge he was actually looking forward to. "As long as it is I who handles that knife of yours," he finally replied, "I believe I am capable of seeing to my own protection."

"Yeah," she smirked. ... "And you always have your melon baller."

Bobby reached out and pulled her against him as she laughed. The rest of that evening was spent - not carving pumpkins.

* * *

It was late the next evening when Blake was finally able to go home. A new case had kept her at 1PP long after Bobby had checked out for the day. A new case had been responsible for her calling and canceling dinner plans with him.

Thumbing through her mail as she walked down the hall, she failed to notice the object sitting just outside her door. As she inserted the key into the lock, recognition dawned.

Squinting, glaring eyes stared back at her and a buck-tooth grinned mocked her own smile. Pushing open the door, she was stunned to see a muted, and softly flickering glow from, a quick count revealed, twelve more, a dozen carved pumpkins glaring, menacingly at her. Setting her bag down, she walked farther into the apartment as the smell of cinnamon assaulted her.

Turning, she saw Bobby in the kitchen, fork digging into a pie tin containing a freshly baked pumpkin pie. "It seemed a shame to waste all those pumpkin innards..." he said around a mouthful of the creamy pie.

"Pumpkin innard pie… that sounds so…. disgusting." She grabbed a fork, he'd obviously set one out for her, crossed the room and took a large forkful for herself. "Mmhmm, this is good. It's just missing one thing."

"I know… I couldn't find a turnip large enough to carve."

Laughing at the literal turn his mind had taken. She leaned up and kissed the corner of his mouth. "Well, I guess there's that too. But really I was thinking that what was really missing was …"

Bobby reached into the brown bag beside him and drew out a can of whipped cream. "I knew you probably hadn't had a chance to get more … after the other night." The grin he flashed at her was predatory.

"Something tells me I'm going to need more than these pumpkins to protect me tonight…." Bobby set down the pie tin. Blake grinned up at him. Bobby set down his fork. Blake ginned up at him. Bobby took the fork from Blake. Blake grinned up at him. Bobby took her in his arms. Blake grinned up at him. Bobby took what she offered him. Blake grinned as his lips met hers, before losing herself in the sweet spicy taste of him.

* * *

More to come...


	12. Silent Night

The story continues....

* * *

Silent Night

It is not always easy to see the light...

* * *

"... _peace on earth, good will toward men_."

Children had stood around the ice rink at Rockefeller Center, voices raised in song, sharing the joy of the season with whomever passed by. At that moment, 'whomever' happened to be a very cynical Robert Goren.

_Peace on earth? _Somebody forgot to tell that to the man who used his wife as a punching bag earlier that evening.

_Good will toward men? _He guessed that the drug addict who blew away a teenage store clerk, in order to feed his hunger for powdered death, had missed that verse.

As a boy he'd looked at Christmas through the eyes of a child, eyes round with wonder, hope and joy - like those children singing on the corner. Then as the boy became a man, the man learned the lesson that hope was fleeting, joy soon gone, and peace a dream he could no longer believe in. He'd seen too much.

_You gonna stay out here all night, Goren? _he thought. _Blake's waiting. She's happy and looking forward to the holiday. _Bobby closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to calm a mind in turmoil. _Shape up! This 'bah, humbug' attitude you're exuding will only bring her down too. _

His hand searched absently for the key, switching the ignition off. Bobby got out of the car slowly, the heaviness of his heart weighting his feet. Taking another deep breath, he squared his shoulders, pasted a smile on his face and walked into the building. He paused before the door, frowning slightly. It was quiet inside. Too quiet. Blake hated the quiet, always turning on the TV or some music as soon as she entered the apartment.

Glancing down one end of the hallway to the other, he neither saw anything amiss nor sensed no threat. Maybe she was wearing her headphones, although usually she did that to keep from disturbing him. She abhorred silence as much as he craved it, and he'd bought the headphones as a gift to the both of them several months ago. After she had unwrapped the box, she'd given him a little peck on the cheek and ruffled his hair as she whispered, _message received_.

Bobby pushed the door open and felt the hair rise on the back of his neck. Something wasn't right. Darkness filled every corner of the loft, not even one Blake candle illuminating the blackness. _What's going on? _he thought. A slight breeze caressed his cheek, and he turned toward the half-open balcony doors. Through the frosted glass he saw Blake leaning against the railing, her upturned face lit by the faint glow of star light.

"Blake?"

"Look, Bobby." Blake didn't turn, but gestured for him to join her outside.

Bobby walked out onto the balcony, his eyes following Blake's upward gaze. One star shone more brightly than all the others did, its golden light falling softly on her features, showing the wide-eyed expression of wonder and joy.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she whispered in awe.

"Yeah, I guess...the news said that the atmosphere is charged with some kind of gas that...."

"No, don't...." She turned and placed a finger against his lips to silence him.

Bobby paused, responding to the soft pleading tone in her voice. He shrugged a shoulder, confused by her seeming lack of interest in Goren's astronomy 101 lecture.

"Don't what?" he asked.

"Bobby, I _know_ there's a reason, but tonight I don't want a scientific explanation. All I need to know is that what I'm witnessing here is beautiful, a miracle. I mean, what are the odds of it happening this night of all nights?" Blake turned to face him. "Can you imagine what it must have been like that first Christmas, so long ago?" Her gaze returned to the star. "For a moment the world stilled, and the light of that night sky turned its focus on a humble stable. Shepherds mingled with kings and angels, and all was right in the world for that moment."

Snowflakes began to fall, each crystal capturing the essence of star shine, a million prisms of light dancing on the wind. A beautiful sight to one with normal vision, more so to one blessed with hope, with faith. Bobby followed the path of several individual flakes that came to rest on Blake's dark curls, dusting them with whiteness.

A stillness settled around them. Bobby looked out over the city. He had once told Blake that a cop had to separate himself from his feelings in order to maintain objectivity and sanity. The cop could do that. The man was finding it a struggle, lately.

Blake stood silent beside him, but Bobby remembered the words she had said to him in another time of pain and doubt.

_Bobby. This is who you are. Your compassion, the instinct to protect... it's your greatest strength, but it can also be your greatest weakness if you allow guilt to destroy you._

He could still see the fire in her eyes as Blake forced him to listen, to accept that he was no more and no less only a man - flaws, scars and doubts not withstanding - a good man.

_You're a man who just happens to have a little edge over the rest of us, but you're still a man, Bobby, not a god. All you can do is try, and hope. You do what you can to help. You do your best, and that's all you can do. That's all any of us can do. No one, can be expected to do more. To insist on perfection for yourself... it... well, it borders on conceit and that's not you, Bobby._

_She always knows just what to say and the words make a difference, _he thought, watching her now with the same wondrous awe that she cast skyward and watched the night sky.

So often he found himself caught up in the dark events of the day that the blinders of cynicism and anger prevented him from seeing and experiencing the simple pleasures of life. As he watched Blake's joy and awe of the night sky, he came to a realization. Blake was guiding him, not pushing or demanding, but leading him to what was really important in life - quiet moments, simple beauty, spending time with a friend. A rare gift indeed and a cherished one.

He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the heaviness fade from his soul.

_Blake is right. The star is beautiful. _He could still feel wonder at its beauty, even with the explanation in the back of his mind. The clean, white snow fell on his face, melted, and washed the darkness of the day's events away. He could not change what had happened today, or what would happen tomorrow, but he could accept this gift, this moment of peace, this time with her. The anger, pain and cynicism faded, and he opened his eyes to see Blake studying him, a concerned perplexed frown touching her brow.

"Goren, you okay?"

"Yeah, Jamison," he said, his lips curving in a genuine smile. "I'm good."

Blake chuckled at Bobby's imitation. "I'm glad to hear it." She rested her hand on his arm, giving it a reassuring squeeze before turning back to look at the star once more. Blake crossed her arms, hugging them close to her body to ward off the chill of the December night. When she spoke, her voice was soft, thoughtful.

"My eyes have been opened in ways I never dreamed of only a few months ago. I've seen so much violence, so much pain, and fear and things I can't understand. You've seen even more."

Familiar fear clamped down on his heart in the same terror that always struck whenever Blake mentioned the down side of the intersection of their professional life and personal life. Would it become too much for her, living with the aftermath and dealing with the consequences of the worst that humanity threw at them? What would he do then? He shook his head, casting those thoughts to the wind, giving Blake his full attention when she spoke once more.

"Seeing these things has changed me, but I won't let it destroy me or my belief in the ultimate good of humanity. It would be easy to dwell on the ugliness. There's no doubt it's there and strong, but I believe in balance, Bobby. Yin and yang, good and evil, dark and light." Blake's hands moved in a dance of their own, rising and falling with the sound of her voice - words and motion driving the point home. "When I see the beauty of this star, or a sky canvas painted with the colors of a sunset, or the smile of a child; when I see you doing your best to protect someone who needs your help, I know there is so much that is right in the world, and I let that touch my heart and fill my soul."

Bobby stared in surprise. Blake talked a lot, but rarely allowing a glimpse this deeply inside her mind and heart. Another rare gift.

"When the world seems darkest that's when I'll remember the star, the sunset, the bravery of my friends and dedication to others." Blake looked up at Bobby, almost shyly. "If the world won't give me peace than I'll make my own peace. You can too." She shivered slightly and Bobby moved closer to drop his arm around her shoulder, offering her warmth and the comfort.

_I can make my own peace. _He looked down at Blake, her profile bathed in starlight. W_hen it all becomes too much for me, I have her to guide me, to lead me out of the dark, the sound of her voice, the warmth of her smile lighting the way. Someone who can show me once again, how to feel wonder, and joy. A friend who is teaching me daily how to live. More than a friend, but always that, a friend._

Bobby tapped Blake on the shoulder, capturing her eyes when she looked up. "Where does all this wisdom come from? And how did you happen to fall into my life to teach it to me?"

"Fate, simple as that, complicated as that," she laughed. As she studied the star once more, her smile faded, replaced by a thoughtful expression. "Or maybe something more."

Bobby followed Blake's train of thought and finished the thought, "I started this evening feeling anything but peaceful. You showed me a star and made me notice. Such a small thing really. But now everything feels right to me and there's nowhere else I'd rather be."

Blake smiled. "Me either. Merry Christmas, Bobby."

"Silent, night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright...."

Bobby looked down to see the caroling children standing beneath the balcony, singing the story of that first Christmas, a night much like this one. Maybe there would never be peace on earth, but here in this place, for this moment, with Blake, all was right with his world, and he finally knew peace.

"Merry Christmas, Blake."

* * *

_More to come...._


	13. Her Audience

* * *

The story continues...

* * *

Her Audience

Getting ready to go out.....

* * *

_Why in the world would someone put a total of five different tags on one tiny article of clothing?_ She sighed under her breath. Price tag, maker's tag, inspection tag, cleaning and care tag, and a size tag too. It just meant more for Blake to remove, and more time spent dressing on a night that she really didn't have the time for.

It was New Year's Eve, and Bobby, Logan and his date, as well as midnight, all waited expectantly for her. She and Bobby had accepted Logan's invitation to a nice quiet dinner party.

At the moment though, she stood in their bedroom, tiny scissors in hand, snipping plastic tag after plastic tag off the bra she intended to wear. The matching panties, what little there was to them, she'd already put on, after having removed only three of the annoying little nuisances. These items were part of her 'after-Christmas-sale' haul, purchased with exactly tonight in mind. Black, lacey underthings to wear for one of the year's most jubilant nights. Somehow, she didn't think Bobby would be too unhappy with her choices.

A few more strategic snips and the last tag finally fell free. She held the brassiere up, smiling as she admired her own good taste, then stepped back in front of the full-length mirror, only to find that she was now sharing the reflection with someone else.

Apparently, Bobby was even more expectant than she'd realized.

"Shouldn't you be getting dressed?" she asked, her smile growing lopsided as she slipped the brassiere on. Her eyes remained on his reflection though, amused to no end by his pose. His arms crossed across his chest, as if holding him back; his legs stood casually apart, and his expression was unreadable, his head, tilted at the slightest of angles. Such an intent stare.

Well yes, he was rather distracted. Fascinated, mesmerized, and already planning their after midnight return to the apartment. Oh yes, he was definitely planning it. How could his brain do anything else, given the scene he'd just walked into?

This holiday season had been an especially close time for the two of them. The holidays had always presented challenges for both of them, with the absence of family, yet this, their first holiday together had been an amazing journey. One truly filled with joy … and hope. He often found himself pulled up short and struck by disbelief at the turn his life had taken. She had drawn so close to him in the last year, almost as much as she had drawn him out. It would have seemed fitting, in his opinion, to see this most momentous year out with a uniquely private celebration for only two.

But the city had its own show to put on, and when Logan invited them to celebrate together, Blake had convinced him that they really shouldn't refuse. Blake had pointed out that they hadn't been the most social couple, and that it was time for them to venture out of the safe haven they had been able to create for themselves.

Midnight – however - midnight would be his. A promise he had made to himself days ago. And afterward. Ohhhh yeah… afterward. In the meantime, until they had to rush off to the streets, he wanted to enjoy her company. Wanted only to be near her.

She'd been dressing. He knew that. He had hoped their last minutes together before leaving for the evening could be spent in a silent embrace. What he had not expected was to find her leaning over a box of fluffy white tissue paper, wearing nothing but a pair of lacy black bikini bottoms. Oh it covered her alright, but just barely; the strap across her hip being literally that nothing more than the most delicate, satin line. Her back sloped up in a creamy curve, ending with the hint of her vertebrae. He had kissed each one only the night before, as well as many other places now so temptingly revealed.

Somehow, someway, he'd managed to still his breath keeping his presence unobtrusive and unnoticed. And when Blake had risen, out of all that tissue had come a black brassiere not unlike the bikinis, and not all that much larger, either. He'd had but seconds to enjoy the view of her bared bosom, his eyes darting back and forth between her reflection in the mirror, and the three-dimensional, flesh and blood side of one curved breast. As provocative a pose as any he'd ever seen made, all the more provocative by the aura of innocence of a woman going through the mundane task of merely getting dressed. Scant seconds later, she was slipping into this delightful little underthing, and finally noticing his arrival.

So yes, he was distracted and it took him a few moments before he managed to swallow, and provide a blatantly obvious answer. "I am dressed, which is more than I can say for you."

She glanced over her shoulder as she reached to fasten the closures. "Shall I take that as a complaint? I'm hurrying as much as I can, these darn things had so many tags on them that I had to cut off…"

"Not at all," he replied, this answer coming much faster. "I had hoped for a few moments alone before we have to leave. I must say that I'm not at all disappointed."

Blake grinned wryly to herself. Yes, he had quite a knack for catching her in the middle of this particular activity. "I picked these out the other day. New underwear for the New Year." Her fingers slid back and forth beneath the shoulder straps, then atop the satin at her side, until finally, along the underwire edge supporting her breasts.

"It's not ..." he paused to catch his breath and to ensure his tone was calm and even. "It's not the New Year yet."

It will be by the time we take them off again."

'We'? Well now, he definitely wasn't leaving.

"It's cold out," he warned, trying for some small talk as he sat down on the bed. The view was even better from that angle. "You'll want to be warm."

"I will be," she assured. "Trousers. Thick wool sweater. And you always make a nice outer layer." Her giggle mingled with his low chuckle, and she cast him a look in the mirror. "Do you need mefor something? Or are you just trying to hurry me along?"

He paused in dumb silence. _Did he need her? _ What a dangerous question for her to ask, while standing there adjusting the soft satin strap at her hip. _They had to be going, they had to be going, they had to be going_, he reminded himself. "No, merely passing the time."

"Ohhhhh." Her mouth formed the letter perfectly, stretching the syllable for effect. "So watching me is your new pastime? What sport am I replacing?" She turned, noting his casual posture, "Well I see you've at least made yourself comfortable."

He ignored her latter accusation, the comfort of the bed probably not something he should be focusing on right now. "What sport are you replacing?" he repeated.

She had gone back to inspecting the brassiere, sticking her chest out and turning from side to side. She was trying to torture him, wasn't she? Surely it couldn't require this much effort to test that one's clothing fit. If she kept this up much longer, he'd go over there and test it for her.

_They had to be going, they had to be going, they had to be going_. The mantra repeatedly reminding Bobby that they had to be going.

"It's just an expression," she replied. She motioned her head in his direction. "You think I need an audience, do you?"

Those were bold words for a woman who was inviting the same with her every move. "If you've amassed an audience," Bobby warned, playing along in the hope it would keep him focused, "then I'll have to ask them to show themselves, so that I may show them the proper _hospitality_." He leaned back on one arm, settling down for the duration.

"An audience of one," Blake corrected, raising her pointer finger as she moved toward him. Her underthings had apparently gained her approval. She'd stopped fidgeting, and now walked so casually towards him. So softly. Such a light, natural sway to her hips.

"Yes, an audience of one, but an avid audience nonetheless," he assured. His words were lost then as she slid one knee onto the bed, balancing herself on her arms. She leaned forward ...

What on _earth_ had he been saying? _Focus, Bobby!_

His arm reached across her lap, his hand sliding slowly along the outer line of her thigh. Two fingers were soon in stretching distance of that thin, black strap that rode across her hip. He caught himself, then glanced up to find that she had caught him too.

"Yeah. Very appreciative," she repeated, the bashful smile on her lips every bit as tempting as that flesh beneath his fingers. "You're flattering me far too much, Bobby," she demurred.

"Noooooo," he breathed, his disagreement vehemently denied. "No, no, no, on the contrary, those words do not even do you justice. Every praise; every tribute, would rightfully be yours." He could show her, of course, he could always show her. His hand was already slipping around her back, her contours fitting perfectly into the cradle of his palm. He could lower her to the mattress, and show her every captivating curve he longed to touch; every mesmerizing moment he wanted to save of this fast dwindling year.

He reined himself in, releasing the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, finally forcing his hand away. Fingertips traced his retreat down the length of her leg, and then slowly settled to the mattress as he paused to watch her in admiration. He couldn't deny that, no matter how badly he wanted to delay their departure, they had to be going.

_Although_, in all honesty, she seemed in no rush to go dashing out of the apartment either. No rush to even leave the bed.

Maybe it was the warmth of his touch slowing cooling on her skin. Maybe it was his steady, fascinated gaze, maybe it was the very words themselves. Or maybe it was just ... him. For whatever reason, she crept closer, balancing herself by the gentle grip of her hands to his shoulders, sidling her way against him - chest to chest; hip to hip; face to face.

"Hmm-mmm," she finally hummed, her head shaking slowly. "I don't need any of that. None of it at all." Then the slight catch of her breath when his touch returned to the small of her back. His hand spanned nearly the entire width, his fingers curving gently to her waist.

"None?" he questioned softly. "Not even my own most heartfelt applause? My own most encouraging hurrahs?"

She giggled so faintly, duly flattered. "Well ... maybe just a little. This is what I need most though. This right here."

One slim finger stroked slowly down his cheek, before caressing even more slowly down his body. And she offered the smallest, sweetest smile, her eyelids heavy not with sleep, but with desire.

_They had to be going, they had to be going_, _God almighty, they had to be going._ It was by willpower alone that Bobby strengthened the arm that was supporting himself. Dropping back would have been ... so ... so ... easy. Truly, it was by nothing less than the purest exercise of rare willpower. And it was by the greatest of fortune that he was already seated. Nothing could have stopped his knees from buckling had he been standing. The pair would have tumbled right down to the blanket, exactly where fate seemed to want them.

"I love you," she finally whispered, using his hard-earned steadiness to steady herself as well. She swallowed to maintain her composure, her fingers weaving through strands of curly graying hair. And when his head leaned back into her palm, in much the same way she often leaned into him, she too had to call on whatever willpower she could muster.

"Say that again?" he begged, his voice faring little better than hers. "Before the year is gone?"

She laughed, then brushed her nose to his ... her lips to the cheek. "There's a whole new year waiting, Bobby. And so many more after that."

His hand tightened at her back, his fingers splaying across the perfect curve. Holding onto her as if trying to hold onto time itself. "Let's not waste any of this year though? Please? Say it again?"

"I love you," she breathed, the words floating to him to become his air. "I love you. I love you." Each word a perfect, precious gift.

A quick kiss was given, before she pulled back and began to leverage herself back up to her feet.

As he held her in place, once more he made his plea, this time with the single word, "Again?" And she happily granted it. Once, "I love you." Then twice, "I love you."

Her eyes closed and her face rested to his. They really did have to be going soon, if they wanted to spend any of this evening with their friends. Then another kiss before she more forcefully pushed away from him. _We have to be going._ It was New Year's Eve after all. A night for kisses, a night made for kisses. With a resigned sigh, she encouraged herself that there would be more. She knew, he would make certain that there were more.

His next breath was deep, in full knowledge that time and circumstances pressed on them. He would offer one more protest though, against the inevitable. "I want ... so much," he murmured. "So many things for the upcoming year." His hand returned to life, his fingers massaging firmly into her flesh. "So many things for even tonight."

"Oh I want that too," she smiled. "Patience. Just be patient. We'll be home again soon and then we can celebrate with some real… audience participation." Her smile became a devilish grin.

His chuckle over her quip was low and guttural. _Later. Later._ Yes, he knew. And that was quickly becoming his new mantra.

He forced his hand away, and with his last ounce of willpower made the unavoidable admission. "I do hate to remind you, since meeting up with Logan was your idea, but we really have to be going."

Blake nodded with regret, taking one more caress of his cheek. "I'll try to be quick," she promised, leveraging herself up. That was the last touch, and now she was gone ... hastening back to the mirror, a skimpy piece of lace and satin reminding him of exactly what he was missing.

_Later. Later. _

"I'll be nice though," she continued. "And you can stay if you promise to behave." She admonished him.

He nodded in polite agreement, remaining on the bed. Seriously, had she actually expected him to budge?

So a new rush commenced, but now she was self-conscious. A rush to find her sweater, to find her trousers. To actually get into them with some level of grace and allure, given the eyes that followed her with an almost drunken heaviness.

He watched it all. Every single movement, both within the mirror and without. From head to toe. From her difficult wiggle into a pair of short leather boots, to the hairbrush flying through her curls. And then the little things, the dab of perfume just behind her ear.

Finished at last, she turned round again, maybe a little bashful over how closely he'd been following her movements. "Ta-da," she announced playfully, complete with a miniaturized, self-conscious flourish.

Behind the mask he now wore, Bobby smiled in approval. "Beautiful," he pronounced, staring with just as much wonder now, as when he'd first entered the room. "Absolutely beautiful."

Thick layers of clothing may form a temporary barrier, but they made her no less enticing.

_Later. Later_. She would be his to unwrap. _Later._

"Well then I guess we better get going," she coaxed, stifling her amusement over the downright constancy of his gaze. She returned to the stack of boxes and crumpled tissue paper, in search of her now buried purse.

"In a moment," he replied, his tone not only regaining control, but turning faintly mischievous. "I know that it's getting late and we're keeping the others waiting, but your audience has one more thought to share. Wouldn't you like to hear it?"

At that, she glanced over her shoulder, her smile quirking and her eyes narrowing in suspicion. So he was still on that little game, was he? Well he _had_ kept his word and been relatively well-behaved. "Alright. Go on."

He rose. Of course he rose, it was only polite. She should have this, even if she didn't need it; she deserved it, even if she didn't want it. And it would be brief; and it would be hushed, because an audience of one can only accomplish so much.

In a warm, surprisingly soothing sound that Blake would remember for many more years to come, came the refrain, _clap clap clap clap clap_.

* * *

More to come....


	14. In Its Wake

_This would have been more appropriate last year, but I can't wait another three years to post this, so just go with the idea, since these stories don't really fit into the show's timeline anyway. _

In Its Wake

_What a day, _Blake thought as she trudged her way home from the subway. A day that, some could argue, shouldn't even have existed. Or at the very least should have been spent in a state of frivolous relaxation. A holiday break from life. Today was _the_ day that marked the Leap Year, February 29th.

It should be a day of joyful abandon. What law would it break? Unfortunately, it was not to be. This one additional day and every minute that made it up had turned into one of the most miserable she'd had to endure in a long time. It was a day spent tramping through slush puddles, in 30-degree weather as she and her partner investigated a series of pawn shop robberies.

It was probably a minor miracle that it still _was_ the 29th when Blake had finally left One Police Plaza. Defeated and dejected, she looked forward to crawling into bed and spending the last few hours of this dreadful day in the oblivion of sleep.

Bobby looked up from the book he was reading as he heard the scratch of keys against the door. He was rarely the one left sitting at home to wait. As the door opened, he instantly took in Blake's tired and worn down appearance as she entered the apartment. He reached out, took both her shoulders in his hands, spun her around and marched her back out the door without giving her a chance to say a word, as the door closed behind them. His steps faltered as he the realization hit him that his personal arrow of time and its innate linear flow had been corrupted. He'd covered the distance from chair to door before consciously processing the thought and decision to do so. As he continued to shepherd the confused and protesting Blake Jamison to the elevator, he shook his head. Time had stood still for those few seconds. A bit of late night winter stargazing would help Blake unwind, or so Bobby's theory went.

Pushing herself away from him when he turned to push the elevator button. She noticed he pushed the 'UP' button. Sputtering, "Bobby, what the hell are you doing? Where are you taking me?"

"You'll see." He glanced at her and saw her working to recompose herself.

"I don't want to see. I just want to crawl into bed and go to sleep. Today was a long, horrible day and I just want it to be over." She had long lost any hopeful expectations for this extra day and simply glared up at him. I don't want to play any games tonight."

Bobby remained silent. The elevator door opened and he motioned for her to precede him out. Still sulking, she pulled her coat tighter around her and walked forward as she whined, "The roof? Why? It's only about 10 degrees, it's late and …."

Working hard to keep an enthusiastic tone, "It won't take long." Opening the door to the roof, Bobby stepped aside to grab the fold up lounge chair and blanket that was hidden behind one of the utility boxes just inside.

She sat bundled between his legs, sharing their combined body heat. A blanket draped across them, while her wool gloves protected her fingers and a scarf still coiled around her neck, effectively employing every effort to stay warm. If all these efforts failed, if the cold, late February air still managed to get past winter's accessories, she was sure Bobby would quite willingly turned himself into the best heated comforter she could ever have asked for. Bobby had been massaging her tense neck muscles and shoulders, as the tension of the day eased, her brittleness eased replaced by a warm relaxation coursed through her.

Bobby was leading her through a journey of the night sky. One by one, he cycled through the most visible constellations. Orion, whose whose rising and setting with the sun is used to reckon the year, the mythological Orion and his dogs, off on the hunt, Leo, cast into the sky by Hercules. To the left was Gemini, represented by the twins, who shared a mother but had different fathers. Blake never had been able to grasp how twins could have different fathers, and she had yet been able to convince Bobby to theorize on the mechanics of it all.

He could tell she was feeling much better, now leaning into him, seemingly relaxed for the last several minutes. What he didn't understand though, was why she kept checking her watch.

"Do you have somewhere else you need to be?" he teased, when she surreptitiously pulled her hand out from beneath the blanket, coughing lightly as an excuse to tilt her wrist. "If I am keeping you from another rendezvous," he continued, "please just tell me."

She let out a huffing puff of air at having been caught, and then shoved her hand back down beneath the cover. He captured it with his own, folding her forearm across her midriff. Then he leaned forward, squeezing her with purpose. Even if she did have an impossible meeting at this ridiculously late hour, the chances of him letting her go were even less.

"What in heaven's name is wrong?" he inquired, having no idea what to make of her behavior. "If you are not enjoying yourself, I would prefer that you simply tell me, rather than resorting to ambiguous hints."

"That's not it," she replied, her eyes closing as she shook her head. Her hope for the day had surged again, as he led her up to the roof, but was now wavering . She couldn't believe he was missing this, and truth be told, yeah, it hurt a little. She hated the idea of having to tell him outright. Bobby Goren, the man who knew every irrelevant, arcane bit of history. But, maybe his idea was a good one. Maybe a hint really would do it.

"It'll be midnight soon," she spoke leadingly. "Less than five minutes."

Well, as obvious and obtuse a statement as that was, Bobby at least believed he could decipher a clue from it. "Would you like to go back downstairs? His hands rubbed her sides comfortingly. "I know it's been quite a long day. Of course you would be exhausted."

"I'm not exhausted either," she sighed, realizing how spectacularly that attempt had failed. "And there's no way we'd make it back to the apartment before midnight, so it was probably pointless to bring the whole thing up anyway." Her frustration really was showing. "Aren't you forgetting something? Aren't you supposed to be doing something before midnight?"

Silence, as he stared at her. That he had utterly no clue, was written all over his face. Fine then, she would spell it out for him. It was going to ruin the moment completely, but it appeared she had no other choice.

"Tradition says," she explained in clear defeat, "that the man is supposed to kiss the woman on Leap Day. And Leap Day ends in," this time she studied her watch with absolutely no hesitation ... "three minutes."

At that, Bobby could only dumbly blink. He'd tried so hard to set a mood to make things easy for Blake, only now to find out, she really didn't know what the tradition was. "And just where did you hear that?" he asked carefully.

"I heard it as a child. School, if you must know. Everyone knows it and I thought that you, of all people, would remember it."

Bobby realized immediately that somewhere along the line her memory had twisted the tradition of the day. What she told him now, while fanciful, and certainly sweet, was not the true tradition. Or perhaps a young boy had once woven such a story to steal a kiss from the little Blake. While Bobby could understand a boy's motives in distorting the legend, he hoped it was the former explanation rather than the latter.

The irony was that he still regretted having disappointed her. Inadvertently, as it was. Her belief over what he should or should not be doing on this rare Leap Day evening, were not only wrong, but known only to herself. He'd obviously done nothing to feel guilty about, so then, why did he experience that small twinge?

Regardless, perhaps the truth could at least be retold in a way she might enjoy.

"I regret that I must inform you, that your memory is incorrect," he began. "The custom is indeed old and springs from the fact that February twenty-ninth held no legal status in earlier centuries. To some degree, the day simply did not exist. Therefore, it was 'allowable' for a _woman_ to propose marriage to a man on that day, indeed, throughout the entire Leap Year in some of the more right-thinking nations. And the kiss you speak of was not a kiss of love, but a consolation required from the man if he declined the proposal."

"Oh," Blake replied simply, rather dejected, and obviously not enchanted by the truth.

He leaned forward placing his lips close to her ear, his arms around her tightening. An expression of sorrow over having to disappoint her yet again.

He whispered, "If the man - fortunate though he may be - were to refuse the woman's hand, then he was to kiss her in apology, as well as pay a pre-determined fine, set forth by law. Additionally, many areas also required that he provide either an ornate gown, or a pair of gloves."

Blake just shook her head. "I've been wrong all this time," she said. "Damn. And I thought it was such a fun idea."

Bobby smiled to himself, rocking her gently. Did she not see the silver lining? "Personally, I take your long-standing lack of awareness about this as a positive sign." Once again, he murmured playfully to her ear, explaining, "It suggests to me, that you have not spent previous Leap Days rushing about, asking men to be yours."

That earned him an elbow in the ribs, and he chuckled in response.

"You do raise an interesting request though," he admitted. "That I might kiss you during these last waning minutes of a day that does not exist. Although, of course, I see no need to wait for the traditionally required marriage proposal to invoke the gesture."

His head returned alongside hers, his breath, his lips, so warm as they brushed against her ear. It sent a chill through Blake that had nothing to do with the winter air surrounding them, but saw her pressing back into the curve of his body all the same.

Despite having had to dissuade her from those fanciful yet incorrect notions, he did indeed see a higher point. There were some things even more worthy of celebration. "I would like to believe that such issues were settled long ago," he continued. "Promises made and lives irreversibly entwined."

At last, her true smile emerged, no longer edged with anxiousness that he wasn't fulfilling this unwritten and unknown requirement, nor saddened that there actually was no requirement in the first place. This was Bobby's smile, the one she saved only for him, the one only he could inspire, no matter what the date. When her face nestled into the curve of his neck - whispering her agreement and sealing it with a fervent kiss of promise - well, he certainly wasn't disappointing her anymore.

"But if you wish to receive the legal recompense as well," Bobby teased, "then I feel compelled to honor my debt - The gown, well, I'll need another day for that, it's nearly midnight and all the stores are closed."

She glanced playfully at him. ... "And let me guess ... you're not carrying any cash on you either, are you?"

"For a fine? No, I'm afraid I left my wallet back in my apartment." His face dipped tantalizingly toward hers, tempting a brush of lips. "I clearly didn't expect the necessity of having to pay for the privilege."

Blake couldn't resist the gesture, and was already pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"But you shall have the rest," he murmured. "You shall have the rest."

Around her, his arms lifted as he set to work removing his gloves. At the release of his embrace, Blake adjusted her position; turning as best she could within the constraint of his legs, trying somehow, someway, to get closer to him.

"Your gloves, my lady," he offered, as he placed the large, black leather pair he'd been wearing in her hands.

"But you've never refused me," she corrected. The gloves were accepted politely though, her fingers sinking into the thick softness. A touch she recognized instinctively, even through her own woolen pair. The leather gloves still warm - still filled with his body heat.

"That's true," he promptly acknowledged. "Nor have you refused me. So we will have to rewrite the tradition." His bare hand curved around her chin, one thumb sneaking up to brush across her lips. "You shall still have your kiss."

His eyes found hers; his hands as well, curving around her jaw. Cupping her head as they both indulged in the simplest joy of watching each other.

Then the smile Blake had come to appreciate grew wide with happiness, the man pleased beyond all measure to draw the face of his beloved to his own. "You," he whispered, "have never required a 'true' Leap Day kiss. You do deserve any kiss, every kiss you desire, every kiss that you might ever request. Not because you love, but because you are loved."

A breathy "Ohhhh," was her first response. The second, the nuzzle of her nose to the dull slope of his. His eyes blinked closed at the touch, opening again only an inch away. When her arms looped around his shoulders, her hands rising to cover the back of his head, both recognized it for the protective gesture it was.

"I love you too," she whispered, shifting yet again to fit more tightly against his body. "Always, Bobby. Always."

In the cold winter night, his warm lips found hers. And at precisely 11:59pm, Blake received the kiss she'd been wishing for all day. Even better, in fact, because the world could see this one. The moon could smile and the wind could laugh. The stars could cheer and the snow flurries could dance.

As one day ended and another began, Bobby continued to kiss his love, alone beneath the nighttime sky. Time continued as always, but history was made in its wake.


	15. Birthday Boy

I just realized that it's almost Robert Goren's 'birthday' ... so it's time for more in the continuing saga of fluff... :)

* * *

Birthday Boy

Bobby Goren walked slowly down the corridor at One Police Plaza, heading towards the Major Case Division. Head bowed, lost in thought as his gaze focused on the tiled floor unaware of the muffled thud of each footstep.

His thoughts were far removed in time and space from present day New York City. He was lost in the jumbled memories forty years ago… Of sitting at a kitchen table listening as to a woman singing softly as she bakes a cake, of a brother sneaking through the room with something hidden behind his back, of a man ruffling the boy's hair as he walks past saying, "I'll try to be home early tonight, Bobby." He could almost hear the tune his mother sang under her breath, and almost feel the weight of his father's hand on his head. His eighth birthday; this is one of the good memories … when they were all still a family. He let himself savor these precious moments; sometimes it was easy to forget that there was a time when there were good memories.

Turning the corner, he walked into the early morning near empty calm of Major Case. He nodded a greeting to another officer as they passed each other. The shift didn't start for another hour. He preferred coming in early. He normally spend the time going over his notes, organizing his thoughts, his priorities for the day – putting on his game face. He realized that wasn't going to happen today. Looking around the room, he wasn't surprised to find himself one of the few detectives in the room.

His gaze landed on the neatly organized desk across the room – Blake's desk. That sent his thoughts flying off on an entirely new tangent. She had invaded his thoughts since the day she'd transferred into Major Case and hadn't left it since. Weeks later, he'd had his first opportunity to see her in a social situation – her birthday. It wasn't long after that they began dating. Those first weeks when they'd managed to keep their relationship a secret had been fun and enjoyable in a way he hadn't allowed himself in a very, very long time. Even now, months later the fun and joy was still there. He couldn't believe the turn of luck this signaled.

He stopped short. Without realizing how far he'd walked he found himself in serious danger of tripping over his desk. Sighing in annoyance, he realized he was going to have to rein in his thoughts in and get to work. He collapsed unceremoniously into the barely cushioned seat of his desk chair, letting it swivel to the side slowly as it adjusted to the sudden weight of his bulk. The thick material of his suit jacket bunched up uncomfortably at his shoulders, irritated he shrugged off the offending garment, flinging it over his shoulder where it landed on the chair's backrest with a light, muffled thump. Once again, he looked around at the empty desks surrounding him, idly wondering if someone had declared a national holiday or something. _Now wouldn't that be something_, he thought wryly. The hushed sound of muted footsteps echoed through the building as someone walked down the hall and into the elevator, the scrap of the metal doors ringing loudly before the office was plunged into silence once more.

_Of course, no one is here_, - he thought - realizing for the first time that he had no case to work on, there was nothing pressing on him that need fixing or solving, no one to save or help.

He laughed weakly, rocking back in his squeaky chair to run a hand through his unruly brown hair.

Leaning forward, he rested his chin in his upturned palm. With no case to divert his attention, his thoughts flew back to Blake – and the upheaval of his life she had seemed intent on bringing about. She had been able to insinuate herself into a place that he hadn't allowed anyone access to and it was beginning to scare the hell out of him. Every rule of conduct that he held himself to seemed to dissolve whenever she was around, and that was definitely a frightening turn of events for a man who had vowed to keep his work life and personal life completely separate.

_Oh God_, he realized with a harsh intake of breath, _I've really fallen in love with her_. He screwed his eyes tightly, trying to rid himself of the thought. He cared deeply for her, she had helped him in so many ways, he'd even told her he loved her – and he did, he'd meant it when he said it. But, being _in love_ with someone was a much bigger deal than saying, _I love you_.

He glanced over at her desk quickly, images of her smiling at him while they sifted through mountains of paperwork, drifting through his mind before he slammed his hand up against his forehead and shook his head hastily, trying to rid himself of those thoughts.

"You can't do this," he reminded himself, singing the mantra over and over again. "You promised yourself, you promised work would be the most important thing, that you would completely refocus on work, rededicate yourself to 'the job' he continued, humming along while desperately trying to reverse the track his heart was taking.

"This isn't happening, this can't be happening…" he murmured, collapsing back into his chair again, before laying his head in his hands, unknowingly pushing a stacked pile of folders onto the floor beside him. He looked down at the papers, trying to extract some meaning from their smooth, white texture before leaning back once more with a sigh.

"You're so doomed.." he told himself with a nervous laugh "Only you could manage to fall for someone at work, after you said that would never happen." he nodded along, mentally kicking himself for allowing such a thing to take hold.

His phone let out a shrill beep, causing him to jump in surprise before he lunged on the offending piece of technology. He glanced down at it once before flicking it open, not in the mood for conversation with the whirlwind of thoughts parading through his mind. Before answering, he looked down at the caller ID, noticing the black text standing out against the white background.

_1 new message,_ it read, and underneath _Blake._

His heart skipped a beat as he retrieved the text message, forcibly punching at the buttons, racking his brain for any reason why she would have called and left him a message. He'd only left her and their apartment half an hour ago and she was supposed to be here at work in less than an hour.

"Finally…" he murmured with a sigh, watching the message appear before his eyes.

_Check your desk,_ read the cryptic message, confusing him even more. What could she possibly mean by 'check your desk'? His gaze raked the surface of his desk as he began pulling open drawers and ransacking the contents. What was he looking for? Why hadn't she just told him what he was looking for?

Under a stack of folders, he found the yellow post-it note. He stared at it, it's meaning taking time to sink in.

_Good morning Birthday Boy_

_I'm sitting outside the building now. With coffee – your favorite blend! You shouldn't have to accept anything less on your birthday – now should you?_

_If you're not out here within the next five minutes, I will come up there and drag you out myself. Don't think I can't do it._

_Today is not a day to be at work! You know it, I know it, your partner knows it – even Captain Ross knows it. So, no argument or excuse will suffice…_

_Surrender Goren! _

_Plus – I don't know if this is any enticement for you at all, but the rest of your birthday present is with me and I __really__ don't think you want me to bring it upstairs. _

_~Blake~_

His heart was beating madly against his chest as a silly grin spread across his face. Pushing the contents of his desk back to some semblance of order before reaching back and grabbing his jacket, he spun out of his desk chair, failing to notice the offending squeak that had been annoying him for weeks.

As he walked happily towards the elevator, mind at full speed to analyze the message, he realized that he hadn't truly celebrated his birthday in 16 years. With a small smile he watched the metal doors screech open before jumping inside, punching at the ground floor button while whistling _Happy Birthday_ to himself.

"Why fight it?" he muttered as the elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open. He spotted Blake's car across the road and the familiar smiling figure sitting inside "After all, it is my birthday…"

* * *

"So, where's my present?" asked a grinning Bobby leaning through the passenger side window of the car parked out front of One Police Plaza, startling the woman sitting behind the steering wheel who was intently staring at the phone in her lap.

"Geez Bobby," murmured Blake in surprise, jumping as his warm voice invaded her thoughts and shocked her back into her surroundings. "You didn't have to sneak up on me!" To be honest, she was remembering another birthday - her birthday from almost a year ago – 10 months and 15 days ago, to be exact. And how far she'd – they'd – come. Not wanting him to see that – he saw everything – she turned and flashed him an angry look, directing it straight towards the man currently grinning in front of her.

"What?" he asked defensively, watching Blake's face stare at him with her mock anger.

"Don't scare me like that again." she accused, desperately trying to hide her smirk, before leaning over the passenger side and opening the door, gesturing for him to get in, while he laughed incredulously at her outburst.

"You okay Blake?" he asked mockingly as he slid in next to her, outdoing her smile with a full-blown grin. "You seem a little wound up?"

She had expected him to be flustered and even a little out of sorts since she had interrupted his plan for the day – which was to ignore his birthday. But she was the one who was flustered and unnerved. He really had no idea of the heart stopping effect that grin of his had on her.

The only response she could muster was a sharp, "Shut up Bobby or you won't get your present." Putting the car into gear and pulling out into traffic provided her with a valid excuse to keep her eyes on the road ahead and not on the man seated next to her.

She had yet to come to understand what was so fascinating about him anyway. He wasn't the classically handsome guy – oh sure, there was something very attractive and appealing about him, she understood that, but any number of men she met fell into the same category. She snuck a quick glance in his direction, watching the casual attitude he had adopted, arms spread out across his legs, fingers tapping away at his knees in time with the music. His eyes were lit up like a kid at Christmas, dancing with the sunlight of the bright morning while seeming to project their own light, an enthusiasm that was solely Bobby. She'd seen this eagerness in him before, but mostly in connection with finding the truth or revealing the guilty. Yet, that had been more of a compulsion, a need that often left him tired and overwhelmed by a sense of futility. But today in this light, the inner light was made him appear more kid like by the second and the grin he was trying unsuccessfully to hide was only reinforcing her opinion.

"I thought you said the rest of my present was in the car, or where you just playing with me?" he asked suddenly, head spinning towards her at lightning speed and stunning her.

She shifted her gaze towards him and smiled, happy that he had taken the bait. "Well, not exactly, I just needed you to be in the car to get to the present." she conceded, watching his face contort in confusion as he analyzed this new information.

"Where are you taking me? Where are we going? Huh?" he asked with a grin and Blake found herself feeling sorry for the adult that had to look at that eagerness and answer to that face when he was a child. There was something about him today - , again she found herself coming back to the word childlike - about his behavior today. She knew he'd had to grow up fast and at a young age. It was as if he'd rediscovered that lost half of childhood and was allowing himself to live it out, cheeky grins and all.

"You'll see." She murmured in response to his earlier guess, choosing to ignore the tightening in her chest as she faced down that grin again.

Meanwhile across from her, Bobby felt so, well the word 'alive' was all that came to mind, almost like he was on something and he had no intention of coming down yet. He knew later on that night he would crash, probably quite hard, and the weight that the day brought would seep into his consciousness slowly throughout the afternoon, but right now, being on cloud nine was all he could think about, and he had no intention or returning to earth too soon. Especially not with the promise of the day spent with his favorite blonde detective.

Finally, the car pulled up in a busy car park, brightly colored tents competed with the frenzied scurrying of children and the equally frenzied parents running after the children.

"I can't believe it." He murmured, feeling his jaw gap as he turned with wide-eyed wonder to stare at Blake in amazement. "Are you serious?" he asked, grinning like a mad man. "You brought me to the…"

"Yep." Blake nodded, hardly able to control her own laughter at the sight of pure happiness and youthful excitement that was playing across Bobby's face.

"The circus…" He breathed out slowly, as if saying the words any louder might shatter the illusion forever.

Unable to remain sitting or even in the car, he flung open the card door, jumped out and ran around to the other side to open the door for Blake, his wonderful amazing girlfriend had brought him to the circus!

Not caring who saw them or which of his rules he was breaking his arms engulfed her small frame and pulled her close. Softly he whispered, "How did you know?"

She shook her head, not understanding. Seeing that she didn't understand, he stuttered, "No… nothing… I don't know…"

Laughing at his confusion she extricated herself from his grasp. Smiling up at him she reached out to squeeze his hand tight with her small one. "You ready, Birthday Boy?"

"Yep, I sure am." He smiled back at her before turning back to marvel at the sight. With that she led them on their way to the front gates, ready for a day of circus filled fun and adventure.

* * *

"When was the last time you went to the Circus?" he asked casually, watching as stray drop of vanilla ice cream rolled unceremoniously down the crease where her hand was curled around the waffle cone. His gaze slowly drifted up to her mouth, her red lips parted slightly to catch the frozen treat they had picked up on their way out of the main arena tent, the 'Big Top'.

"Don't know…" Blake admitted with a smile, shifting slightly under his intense gaze "I can't remember much about it though. I remember the Ferris wheel and the terror and certainty I felt that I was going to fall out of it." She laughed quietly, remembering the time her Junior High School had reserved several buses and taken them to a small circus playing nearby. He eyes darted up to glance at Bobby for a second before they resumed their gaze across the crowds. The pair had been lucky enough to find an empty bench across from the milling crowds of people making their way on and off the rides, games and minor tent shows after the thrill of the three ring circus events they'd all just witnessed.

"Come on…" Bobby said around his last bite of waffle cone. Grabbing onto Blake's hand tightly he was pulling her up and off the bench without warning.

"Hey!" She squeaked out before smashing into his chest. Stepping away from her he began to drag her down the midway towards the rides. She followed awkwardly, trying to avoid the falling remnants of her waffle cone that had been crushed between them.

"Bobby… slow down would you?" She begged as they met up with the slow moving crowd in front of them.

He didn't have much choice but to slow down, but he came to a sudden stop so that they wouldn't get separated from the other. He turned back to look at Blake, a smile spreading across his face as he noticed the cute, befuddled glare that he'd come to love over these past few months. The way her head fell to the side as her brow crinkled in confusion or her mouth pursed in concentration made was a highlight of his day now, and he loved watching her contemplate a new problem or idea.

"What?" Her question broke into his thoughts. Realizing she'd caught him staring at her, and seeing the mixture of expectation and amusement on her face jolted him into action. She didn't yet realize that where they were standing was right in front of the Ferris wheel.

"We're going up." He pointed up at the Ferris wheel as did she. The hand he grasped pulled away from him and he had the fleeting thought that maybe her fear of Ferris wheels was a genuine fear.

"You're not scared are you?" He teased affectionately, with just the right amount of understanding and compassion to allow her to an out, if this was indeed too much for her.

"Of course not." Was her quick reply as she brushed past him, headed straight towards the man with the tickets, leaving Bobby to follow after her, once again grinning after her while once more searching out her hand. He squeezed it tightly as they climbed into the small metal booth, both pausing briefly to negotiate seating arrangements.

"I'll just sit here." Blake laughed nervously, eyeing Bobby's calm, yet still grinning face as he sat down opposite her, still holding her hand and playing with the ring on her right hand.

Nodding towards the ring, she explained, "It's one of the few things I have left that belonged to my mother." She smiled softly, bringing her free hand up to rest upon Bobby's larger one. "I remember her telling me that an old boyfriend had given it to her. She said she wore it to remind my father that she'd had other options. That she wore it as a challenge for him to never take her for granted."

"I think I'm beginning to see where you get your sense of humor." Bobby smiled in return, leaning back against the metal railing to give Blake a little space. The Ferris wheel was slowly creeping higher and higher into the sky, the city slowly spreading out in front of them.

"Reckon we'll be able to see the office?" Bobby asked as he shifted his view towards the Manhattan skyline searching the buildings for the familiar shape of 1PP. He heard Blake laugh quietly behind him and turned towards her with a smile, silently asking her what she was laughing about.

"We're not that high up Bobby." She explained softly, her voice losing some of its teasing edge as her eyes shifted to the ground. "And of all the ro…

"Hey…" Bobby reached out for her as she stopped speaking, "You okay Blake?" he asked, leaning back across the booth to catch her eye.

"Yeah Bobby, I'm good" she nodded, perking back up as she realized he had picked up on the change with her almost immediately. _This is Bobby's day… stop being such a baby _she admonished herself and sent him a happy smile in confirmation.

"So, what gave you the idea of bringing me here anyway?" he asked, quickly making the change of conversation to lighten the heavy silence that had suddenly descended upon them.

Blake's face immediately lit up, happy to have her attention be diverted to talking about her genius plan. Bobby settled himself back against the metal railing's once more, happy to lose himself in the delight on Blake's face.

"I saw the picture of you and your brother with your parents at the circus when you were little." she answered, watching Bobby's eyes respond in recognition as a lazy smile spread across his face at the memory. "So, when I was trying to think of what to get you for a birthday present, I thought a trip back to a good time …"

"Thank you…" he murmured in response, suddenly avoiding her gaze as the floor suddenly became very interesting. "No one has ever put that much thought into my birthday before." he admitted softly.

"I'm sure they have Bobby…" Blake scoffed lightly. Ignoring the squeak that would have usually unsettled her she leaned across and laid a hand on Bobby's knee silently, squeezing her hand into his as it came to rest a top hers.

"Today's been a good day." Bobby smiled Bobby happily, wishing he could say and do more to show just how much he appreciated what Blake had done for him. Just how much he loved her and everything about her.

"It has been hasn't it?" She grinned up at him, happy that the light had returned to Bobby's eyes. "I'm really glad you had a good day."

"Where to now?" She asked, hoping that this wasn't the signal of the end of the day. The cynical part of her mind asked, didn't the Ferris wheel ride always signal the end of the day?

"Well, I've been feeling like I deserve a nice dinner, you want to join me for it?" asked Bobby suddenly.

Teasing now, "Well, that sure sounds like a proper date. Do people who are dating, well, actually living together, still go out on a proper date?"

"Well, if you'd rather not…" Bobby started.

"No, no, no… wait right there. I didn't say I didn't want to. I do… honestly. I'd love to have dinner with you. It was just the way you asked. You looked so serious." Blake laughed as she replied.

"So, how about I pick you up at your door at 7?"

"At my door… at 7. My door... that sounds perfect." He'd been a good sport all day and played along with her, she could easily play along with him now.

They smiled once more at each other before Bobby made a bold move and slid over next to her, resting his hand on her own before griping it tightly. He leaned over her to plant a soft kiss to her head as he whispered, "I'll never take you for granted."

Blake's heart beat wildly as she allowed her body to relax and ease against the side of his before she lowered her head down to rest against the warmth of his shoulder. "I'll never take you for granted either."

Bobby felt his breathing quicken slightly before returning to normal. Bobby's arm slowly wrapping its way around her figure and pulling her close, watching the world unfold before them as the Ferris wheel made its last loop around.


End file.
